Becoming Renesmee
by meridajane
Summary: Rejected by the cold arms of her hating father Edward, young Renensmee discovers the truth behind Bella's death and has no choice but to run away from the Cullens. They meet again years later but this time she is the loving and kind-hearted Carlie Masen. Can she keep her identity a secret while proving worthy of her father's love, or will she expose it trying to save her family?
1. Chapter 1- Family

**_*FYI : Edward cannot read _Renesmee's_ mind, the same way he could not read Bella's, however, he doesn't care about it anymore since she is dead. Jacob has not imprinted on her either.*_**

* * *

**Music-Mad World: Gary Jules**

**Chapter 1- Family**

_"Get him out, get him out!" A sick looking woman in a blue hospital gown screamed. Her body looked like nothing but skin and bones at this point and there were many large, purple bruises all over her gigantic stomach. She was with child._

_"Stay with me, Bella, stay with me," A tan, bulky looking boy pleaded._

_'Bella', I wondered. Was he talking about my mother, Bella? I had heard her name before, in a conversation Carlisle and Esme were having once, but other than that my mother's name almost seemed non-existent in our home. There weren't any pictures of her around the house either, and if there were, then they were probably locked up somewhere in my father's room._

_All of a sudden a loud, ear piercing scream of a newborn child was heard and a blonde, breathtakingly beautiful immortal appeared._

_Aunt Rosalie?!_

_"Give me the baby, Edward," she commanded with a firm voice. The vision cleared and I realized that we were in the Cullen home. My father quickly handed the baby to her, not bothering to even look at it, and went over at the human girl, now laying perfectly still, all traces of life gone in her pale face. _

_"No," he breathed, taking in a long painful gasp. "No". _

_In all the years I had known my father I had never seen him look so heartbroken, so pained. It was as if his entire world had been destroyed, and the only thing he could do now was watch helplessly, as it burned into ash. He stared, motionless, at the lifeless corpse in front of him. Slowly, his gaze slid down from her face, and over to ____the diamond ring on her left hand. Very carefully, as if made from the thinnest glass, he took her hand in his, and kissed the ring with so much love and passion that no such words could describe. _

_"As long as we both shall live," he whispered, over and over again... _

_**~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~**  
_

I gasped out of bed, finding myself covered in sticky perspiration once more. Glancing at the clock I saw that it was seven fifteen. When it came to Alaskan weather there was no trusting the light outside during the morning. It was always dark, like a grey cloak cast over the sky, and the sun rarely made its appearances. But whenever it did I would always marvel over the way it peeked from the horizon, filling the earth with its breathtaking beauty. Though today it was the same as always, grey.

With a long sigh I got up off the bed to go to the bathroom which was conveniently located by the long hallway outside my door. There were a variety of different beauty products lined up against the wall, varying from conditioners to perfumes. I hardly used any of them, being the kind of girl who wasn't a fan of make-up or fashion, however I did like to look my best at all times; a hopeless attempt to compare to the exquisite beauty of my immortal family.

_'They would look more beautiful,'_ I thought with a twinge of sadness,_' if they ever smiled_.'

Mesmerizing as their golden eyes were and attractive as their physical features could be, my family always looked so miserable. A gloomy expression would be etched upon their faces constantly as if there were nothing left in the world to live for. It all reminded me of a black and white movie; no color, no spontaneity. Absolutely nothing. The only two people I could ever recall of smiling were my grandparents. Carlisle and Esme.

Out of all the people I loved in my family Carlisle and Esme were the best. Esme was possibly the most loving and benevolent woman I had ever met. She listened to me whenever I felt troubled, and comforted me through all my frustrations. But if Esme was the heart of our family, then Carlisle was the mind. It never failed to surprise me how knowledgeable and ethical he was despite of looking so young. Possibly no one in this earth could ever compare to the brilliant mind of my grandfather, not even in a million years. He, I trusted the most.

My uncles, on the other hand, were a different story.

No, they weren't as supportive as my grandparents were, but they weren't too isolated from me either. Yes, I'll admit that they didn't like speaking to me, carefully bounded by some unsanctioned, no communication pact, but there was...something. Something for me that they kept hidden in their hearts. If I ever became too emotional Uncle Jasper would always use his special ability to calm me down; a silent implication that he cared. It was quite convenient, his little gift of reading and controlling emotions, though he would never ask me about it like Uncle Emmett did at times.

I oddly enjoyed being around Uncle Emmett. It made me feel safe and he didn't mind it either. On rare occasions I'd just read quietly beside him in the living room, keeping my side of the no communication pact, while he did his own thing with Uncle Jasper. Other than that we would just carry on with our own private lives, giving each other silent messages every now and then. But the hardest one to appeal to was the one I loved the most, even more than Carlisle and Esme. The one for whom I'd just do about anything to please.

My father.

He would never look at me, speak to me, or even be in the same room as me without it getting uncomfortable. The only thing he ever did was go to school, stay in his room all day, or take long walks in the forest. We would only talk to one another if he wanted something from me, or if I had question that required an answer from him. For the thousand time, I desperately wished he could read my mind the way he could with others. If only he could see how much it pained me to be rejected by him like this and understand the bitter sweet agony of my emotions towards him. My father was a part of me, a very indispensible part, that I couldn't just rip away and hope I'd get over of. He was the only half I had left.

While staring at my reflection in the mirror, I wondered about my mother and if the sick-looking girl in the dream could have been her. It had been seven years since Isabella Marie Swan died, a necessary sacrifice that had to be made in order to bring me into this world. But no one ever said anything about her having bruises or looking malnourished. Esme only told me that the delivery was too much for her body, and there was not enough energy for her to recover.

After fifteen minutes I gave up trying to break down the bits and pieces of my body to match them to the girl who was in the dream. I had too much of my father in me: his nose, his jaw line, his bronze colored hair. Though my skin, unlike my father's, was colorful and full of warm blood. Yet the biggest difference between us wasn't my beating heart. It was my eyes.

My eyes were crimson red, and never changed to black the way the rest of my family's did whenever they needed to hunt. In fact, I didn't hunt at all—the blood lust not being a problem for me— and the rest of them didn't suggest hunting either. There was no way I could compare to the agility of a vampire, only having the regular speed of human, and I was no incredible hulk either. I was just me, Renesmee Cullen.

After brushing my teeth, and fixing my incredibly short hair, I opened the bathroom door to start my morning rituals.

The first place I thought of going to was Carlisle's study, where I knew him and Esme both would be conversing with one another at this time of day. Mainly because they were accustomed to my morning visits, and were waiting for me to wake up. I paused momentarily at the wide, elegant door, waiting for Carlisle's approval to come in. He could hear me.

"Come in Renesmee"

Without hesitation I walked through the massive door frame to see Carlisle and Esme smiling at me with absolute love and warmth. Like I said, my grandparents I liked the most.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just wanted to say good morning," I explained with a shy smile.

"Of course not," Esme said, appearing before me in a flash. She embrace me in a tight hug, then pulled away to look at me. "I think it's very nice of you to say good morning to us every day."

"It at least shows that your grandmother hasn't spoiled you yet," Carlisle teased, rising up from his leather chair. He wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder once I reached him.

"Oh please, Carlisle, the girl is anything but spoiled," she chided, but smiled affectionately at the both of us.

Carlisle chuckled lightly, and kissed my forehead with his cold lips. "Good morning to you as well Renesmee."

I smiled kindly at him, appreciating the endearment. "Thank you."

"And before you can ask, we're studying Latin and history today. I'll quiz you on your math when I get back from the hospital."

"I'll be ready," I said, giving them one last hug before heading out the door. If I had to choose one thing that drove my curiosity to the brink of insanity then it had to be school. My family never let me go to school, saying it was too dangerous, and that I would frighten other children with my eyes. But it wasn't like I couldn't get contacts, right? Now that I thought about it, they never even let me go outside the house. Not even once. But I took comfort in the fact that Carlisle had promised me I could go to high school once I was old enough. But that was a very long wait, and I was only seven.

_'A seven year old with an IQ of a college kid,' _my rebellious side grumbled.

I made my way down the stairs, hoping I would find my Uncle Emmett and Jasper passing the time before school, and to my relief Uncle Emmett was organizing a bunch of papers in his bag, while Uncle Jasper read the newspaper.

"Good morning Uncle Emmett, Uncle Jasper." I greeted politely, finally reaching the last step.

Uncle Emmett momentarily looked up from the work he was doing to look at me. "Good morning," he repeated—unobtrusively but with respectful eyes—and resumed his shuffling.

Uncle Jasper on the other hand placed the newspaper aside and said, "You should go get some breakfast."

"I will, thank you," I said affably, and headed over to the kitchen. Breakfast was easy for me since the only thing I ate during the morning was cereal, so it didn't take much time or effort to make. Otherwise there were so many things one could eat in a human diet.

_Human. _I ran the word over and over again in my mind. If I were human, then my mother would be alive today. She wouldn't have had to suffer so much pain during my birth, and would have recovered quickly. But flashbacks of yesterday night's dream came back to me. The human girl, a dead and lifeless corpse, my father staring at her with vacant eyes. This was a very different story than the one I had been told. My mother had not been described as being so physically weak. She had died only a few days after my birth, not right after I was born.

I shook my head, trying to forget about the horrible nightmare. It was probably just a strange part of my imagination getting the better of me. Besides, the dream didn't explain the reason why Uncle Emmett and Uncle Jasper were so distant. Carlisle told me once that Aunt Alice and Aunt Rosalie had mysteriously disappeared a few months after I was born, and no one knew where or why. Though something in his explanation didn't sound right. Uncle Emmett and Uncle Jasper weren't the kind of men who would lay low and wait for their wives to come back. They would scope the entire earth to find the women they loved, even if it took them a million years. But here they were, passing time as if it were nothing. Odd.

After finishing my cereal bowl, I noticed my father hadn't come downstairs yet. Usually I would say a quick greeting when he came downstairs, but for some reason it was taking longer than it normally did. Was something wrong? He never took this much time before in leaving for school. And allowing him to leave without even saying anything didn't feel right. I didn't want him to think of me as a rude and arrogant brat. I would do anything to please my father.

Finally, I decided I would give him five more minutes. If he didn't come downstairs then I'd ask one of my Uncles to tell him I said good morning and to have a nice day. But seven minutes passed by like blur, and my wait couldn't be delayed any longer. I went back into the living room to give Uncle Emmett and Jasper my message, but to my sudden anxiety, neither of them were there. The panic increased as I cautiously my way up the stairs, completely preoccupied in the chaos of thoughts.

No, there was no way I was going to go to my father's room. That was the number one rule in the no communication pact: do not, under any circumstances, do not go into my father's room. In fact, don't even knock on the door. I had been to all the other rooms in the house, even Uncle Emmett and Jasper's, but never his room. That was my father's territory, where every secret of his and every memory of his past life remained. He never invited me in, or asked me to go get something from there the way my Uncles did sometimes. My father's room was a complete mystery to me, a mystery that I wanted to keep unsolved. There was a difference between stretching the limits and crossing them. And this was one rule I couldn't break.

When reaching the foot of the stairs, I found myself facing my father's tall, superior, white oak door. The hinges were lustrous and captivating, looking newly made despite of being years old. At that moment I felt like a small insect, so small, so vulnerable. He was right there, right behind that thin piece of wood. What would I do if he came out? What if-

Suddenly the door burst open, and the pale, dead face of Edward Cullen slowly emerged out of the dimly lit room. He was wearing a grey, woolen jacket that made his dark eyes look even more repelling. The copper mass of hair stood up in all directions, giving him the handsome complexities of a modern teenager.

But for those who were wise enough to look beyond the beautiful mask of deception, they would see a broken man, a masochistic man. A man who had lived through enough of life, and only wanted to suffer in the coldness of isolation. Taking pleasure in nothing, and no one.

And I still loved him.

"Good morning father." I whispered, finally fulfilling the demand of my restless conscience. My simple greeting sounded more like an insult, a bitter joke. He's never had good morning.

My father's gaze locked on mine and his eyes went very hard, clearly disturbed by my intrusion. Then, with a quick nod, he disappeared down the flight of stairs, leaving a gust of wind behind him. The last thing I heard was the door closing shut.

Welcome to the Cullen family.


	2. Chapter 2- Nightmare

**Music- Time Will Tell: X-Ray Dog.**

**Chapter 2- Fear**

After being shut in my room for the past six hours, studying history and Latin, the silence became too much for me. My throat felt funny from not being able to talk for so long, and Esme had gone to run a few errands for the Denali family. I hated whenever they came to visit, because I always had to hide in my room and pretend like I didn't exist. It was silly the way they were touchy about the whole immortal children thing. _Illegal children_, as they would put it. And even more disgusting was listening to the reddish blond one, Tanya was her name, get all flirty with my father. Have some decency for God's sake.

So here I was, in the living room, translating the Ten Commandments into Latin out loud. As much as I loved spending a quiet evening in my room, it became insufferable as well. That was the strange thing about silence; it was both comforting yet poisoning.

"Honora patrem tuum et matrem." I mumbled, while reading the slip of paper in my hands. It meant honor thy mother and thy father. I smiled to myself, '_way ahead of you," _and went on to the next sentence.

"No occides:." I spoke carefully, but then shook my head. It didn't sound right at all.

"No ocides:." I repeated, and frowned in frustration over trying to find the right pronunciation.

Out of nowhere, a cold, familiar voice corrected me. "Non occides:."

I stiffened, and whipped my head around to find my father leaning against the entryway of the living room. His black eyes stared straight into the depths my red ones, and he carried an unfathomable expression on his face.

"Oh, hello father." I greeted, straightening myself out."I didn't see you there."

"Do you know what it means?" He inquired, refusing to be distracted my formal welcome. It sounded like he was testing me rather that wanting to know the answer.

"Yes," I responded, hoping to sound confident in my assessment. "It's part of the Ten Commandments and means thou shalt not kill, and that every life is precious."

I felt as the atmosphere around us grew cold, and my father continued to stare at me, never once breaking the silence. Then, very carefully, he stepped closer, closer than we had ever been facing each other before, and I fretfully wondered if I had unknowingly offended him in some way. The eyes in my sockets felt as if they were going to be burned by the intensity of his glare. This was not good.

Before I had enough time to formulate an apology he said, "I'd remember that one if I were you," with a dark edge in his voice. "And you're right. _Every_ life is precious."

I had to look away from his malicious gaze, ignoring the hidden meaning behind his words. This was not a good position for me to be in, and I didn't know what to do. The only thing I could think of at the moment was escape.

"T- thank you for your advice."I stuttered, desperately trying to find some stability in my voice. "I think I should go to my room now."

And with that, I fled towards the staircase, fighting the uncontrollable urge to run as his eyes follow me. The small space between me and the foot of the stairs seemed to feel miles away, as if it were an unending labyrinth. But after finally reaching the top, I retreated to the safety of my room and shut the door behind me with hasty speed. Then, pressing myself against the hard, wooden door, I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to find some stability in my chaotic mind. The carved edges dug painfully into my shoulder blades.

Why was this so hard?! I wanted to talk to him, and know him, and be close to him. But every single time he glowered at me like that my instincts would always scream at me to run. Run and hide so that he'd never find me. I just didn't understand it, any of it.

_"I'd remember that one if I were you"_. What did that mean? I had never thought about killing someone before, mentally or audibly. Did he think I'd lose control of my senses and hurt the others? No, that wasn't possible. The only people I could ever be physically capable of hurting were humans, and I had never even met one before. Not even my own grandfather. The only human that I had ever known was my...

Horrid memories of yesterday night's dream came back to me once more. The pale faced girl staring into the unavoidable face of death, her blood soaking through the light blue gown she wore, my father's blank expression at the sight of her withered body as she said goodbye to him forever. The useless corpse, now a bitter reminder of how she gave up her life to save the one she loved.

_Every_ life was precious

My eyes opened slowly, as a new possibility dawned upon me. What if this dream wasn't a dream? What if it was a memory? I knew that I had a sharp mind, but no mind could possibly be that sharp. No normal human was supposed to remember their youth as a baby, especially the moment they were born. But, then again, I was never normal at all. I was completely different.

My stomach churned as a cold, terrifying fear came over me. If this dream wasn't a dream, if this was a long lost memory of my birth, then the words my father had said to me made complete sense. In his eyes, I would always be the killer who had murdered his wife, his reason for existing. Every smile I gave and every joyful moment I lived would be his to loathe. And for the whole time, he'd never forgive himself for being responsible for this pain.

Never.

I inhaled sharply through my nose, trying to gather whatever logical sense I had left. I had to talk to Carlisle about this, immediately. Only he could talk some sense into me out of all this nonsense. I trusted him completely, and knew he would never lie to me, but I just needed some reassurance that I wasn't going insane. I couldn't afford to distrust my grandfather. He was the only one that understood.

I watched, with agonizing anticipation, as the needle on the clock went from four o'clock to five, then five o'clock to six. Where was he? He should have been home by now, I thought impatiently, considering the fact that he left early this morning. I tapped my pen on the desk with ardent frustration, trying to focus on something other than Carlisle.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted my tapping, and I desperately hoped I would be presented with the calm, compassionate face of my grandfather. Finally being relieved of this unexpected burden my thoughts had placed on me.

"Come in," I breathed.

My heart sank with disappointment as Esme appeared at the door with a plate of food in her hand. Of course, I had almost forgotten that it was my dinner time as well.

She smiled at me tentatively. "Sorry, Renesmee. I know you're probably waiting for Carlisle to come home, but he called and said he won't be able to make it until twelve."

I stared in absolute dismay as I took in the meaning of her words. Twelve o'clock? I couldn't stay up until twelve o'clock. There was no way I would wake up on time.

Esme touched my shoulder gently, most likely sensing whatever emotion had me so disturbed at Carlisle's absence. "I would get some sleep if I were you. You woke up quite early this morning, and your eyes are looking red."

I smiled at the double meaning in her words. "They're always red," I reminded her.

She laughed lightly at the joke, her voice like the melody of wind chimes, and kissed my forehead before leaving.

With a long sigh, I ate my dinner quickly, and went over to the bathroom to finish up for the night. All the time, feeling the same, chilling fear as I had before when my mind had come across the new possibility for my dreams. And the meaning of that possibility, or what it could represent for the delicate relationship with my father, being even more terrifying.

Carlisle had explained long ago, that my father was distant to me because I reminded him of mother. Even though I had never met her, I was still like her. But hardly any of my physical features contrasted to my father's, and he didn't even know me at all. Then why?

'_Have trust in Carlisle.'_ I chanted, over and over before finally falling into the unknown depths of unconsciousness. Still, feeling that same, horrifying fear, as my mind wondered where my dreams would take me tonight.

**~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~**

_They were all running; Carlisle, Esme, father, Uncle Emmett, Uncle Jasper, and even Aunt Alice. Far off into the distance, the Cullen home was engulfed in massive flames, illuminating the cold night while the moon watched overhead, placing its white glare over the terrifying scene. The dark shadows of the trees and mass overview of stars went by so quickly, as if we were flying in the air. Suddenly, the orange glow of flames turned to a bright red color as a bitter sweet stench filled the dry air. _

_Uncle Emmett jerked his head around, abruptly stopping in tracks, and stared in mute horror as the redness of the flames increased._

_"ROSE!" he screamed, and started running towards the opposite direction until Uncle Jasper and Carlisle caught up to him._

_"Calm down Emmett," Uncle Jasper said with a pained voice, trying to control his brother's rage._

_Carlisle stepped in, doing his best to bring things back into order. "She's gone Emmett," he said roughly in a strained voice. "We knew that right after she was torn into pieces."_

_Uncle Emmett still struggled in their unbreakable grip, growling and snarling with vicious hate. "I'll kill that werewolf bastard myself. I'll make sure that every moment he lives will be hell! " _

_"Calm yourself, son." Carlisle reasoned. "This fight can wait another day, and I promise you when that day comes, you can do whatever you want with him. But right now we have to do what's best for our family." _

_However, Uncle Emmett's hostility and frustration grew with every word they said, until he was roaring with fury. _

_"Carlisle!" Esme screamed, staring into the darkness of the nearby trees with a fearful look in her eyes. _

_Slowly, out of the dark shadows of the night, a reddish brown wolf emerged, his muzzle curling back with ferocity and lethality. Instead of focusing on the six immortals in front of him, his eyes searched, and zeroed on the small baby cradled in Esme's arms. Then, a low, menacing growl escaped his lips, gradually increasing in volume as Esme tucked the small child safely behind her shoulder, releasing a small snarl herself. The baby whimpered , clearly disturbed and frightened by all the noise._

_"Run!" Aunt Alice yelled as seven more wolves appeared at the scene, each one more menacing than the last. They all sprinted frantically, trying to escape the hopeless death trap as the creatures advanced upon them. Aunt Alice was running a few paces behind the others, barely keeping up, and became the vulnerable outlier in the group. Without notice, a massive, black coated wolf leapt in front of her, cutting her off from the rest of the family. It wasn't long until she was surrounded by the pack, finding herself inescapably trapped in the center of ravenous beasts._

_Uncle Jasper looked around puzzled, clearly expecting to find his wife right beside them, then gasped, as he saw her trapped in the ring of wolves._

_"Alice." He breathed, knowing the horror that awaited next._

_She stared at him with tortured expression in her sad, golden eyes, and mouthed 'love you,' before closing them, and giving into her fate as the merciless wolves leapt into the center of the circle._

_**~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~**  
_

"No!" I gasped, jumping up from the pillow on my bed. At first I didn't realize where I was; the dark shadows of the room looked unfamiliar and frightening as my eyes darted from corner to corner. But after they adjusted to the dimness, I was brought back to the strangely abstruse world of reality which in my aspect was becoming more ghastly day to day. With a surge of panic, I hastily ripped the heavy sheets off my sweaty body, stumbling a little in the process, and slowly slid down onto the cold, wooden floor, feeling as the hard bed frame supported my back.

It was felt so... so real. The fiery red embers of the flames, the repulsive and intoxicating stench, the terrifying snarls of the wolves. It felt like I was actually there, all those years ago, and had witnessed the dreadful events that tore my family apart. Aunt Alice's death was possibly the most bone chilling thing I had ever seen, remembering as she stood there terrified, heartbroken, and hopeless. But Aunt Alice's distress was nothing compared to the ferocious growls and snarls of Uncle Emmett, as he atrociously cursed the wolves for throwing his beloved wife into the burning Cullen home like a worthless piece of garbage.

With a sudden realization, I cited my Uncle's exact words. _"I'll kill that werewolf bastard myself." _Wait... _werewolves_? As in real life werewolves? No, that was completely and absolutely impossible. Werewolves were just silly, mythical creatures made up by humans to get children to go to sleep at night, not real beings. There was no way some sort of mutant beast roamed around during a full moon hunting for vampires. They couldn't exist.

_"But if we can exist then why can't they?" _A small voice in the back of my head questioned.

At that I stood up abruptly, not being able to take any more of this. My conversation with Carlisle couldn't wait any longer and I didn't care if it was two a.m. or not. Either these dreams were going to drive me insane, or my erratic thought process with its rationality and irrationality canceling each other out.

With a deep, reassuring breath, I gathered all my courage and quietly made my way to the narrow doorway. Another complication when living in a house full of vampires was that they could hear everything, even my frantic heartbeat. It bothered me a little to know that they could monitor my every action, but that was when I had nothing to hide. Now, all of my senses were on full alert as I twisted the door knob with great care, cringing when the hinges groaned as I gently pushed the door open. I hoped my uncles hadn't heard anything, their rooms were the closest to mine, and if they caught me roaming the halls at night I wouldn't have a reasonable explanation to why. Breathing silently through my nose, I deliberately placed one foot after another, stopping every now and then to hear for any signs of suspicion. I felt like a small, frightened kitten walking in the midst of a pack of ferocious, sleeping guard dogs. Although this would be a lot easier if they could sleep.

I was quite pleased with the slow progress I was making, keeping comfort in the fact that I'd be with  
Carlisle soon, until I glanced up at the unbelievable sight in front of me.

My entire body froze, completely petrified with shock as I stared at the wide open door of my father's domain. The palms of my hands felt clammy with sweat and by breathing hiked in fear and terror. There was an unfamiliar pounding in my head as the horror and panic sunk in like an intoxicating poison, searching and killing. It felt like I was in another dimension, where up was down and left was right. Nothing made sense anymore; my dreams, the fear, Carlisle, my family. Nothing. Because right there, directly on the front wall of my father's room, was a picture of the pale faced, human girl.

Bella Swan

It recognized it as a picture of their wedding. My father, in his dark, handsome tuxedo, had a firm arm wrapped carefully around my mother's fragile waist, her white dress cascading elegantly down her body. She gazed happily at her newly wedded husband, her chocolate brown eyes filled with kindness and warmth. Her skin was flushed red, and the beautiful outlines of her heart shaped face had no trace dark circles or bruises. She was human, and happy.

My father, on the other hand, was a complete opposite of the Edward Cullen I knew. His golden eyes were tender and soft as he stared at my mother with joyful pride, finally claiming her as his own. The smile on his face was nothing like the ones I had ever imagined; it was both ecstatic and loving at the same time, secretly wanting to tell her all the words his heart couldn't. She was his peace, his heaven.

The love and affection that bound them together was one that was both beautiful and painful to watch. It illuminated the picture in every corner, blinding anyone who saw it with its glory. My heart ached to be a part of their world, a part of their love. To be wanted and cared for in their tender arms, never having fear myself again.

I gently touched the golden frame, feeling as my heart bled when I realized this fantasy would never come true.

"What are you doing here?" A cold, harsh voice lashed out.

I couldn't breathe.


	3. Chapter 3- A Daughter's Hold

**Music- Unbeautiful: Lesley Roy.**

**Chapter 3- A Daughter's Hold **

With a startled gasp, I turned around to face my father's towering figure directly behind me. His face was grave, as if chiseled from the hardest of stone, and wore that same unfathomable expression I couldn't make out earlier. However, his eyes had transitioned from coal black to blazing gold, and I suspected that he must have returned from a recent hunting trip. The fire in them smoldered slightly, trying to conceal the anger that threatened to burst like lava, and glowered with silent asperity.

It took me a second to realize that I had unconsciously stepped into his room, his realm of secrets, and had automatically broken the delicate no-communication treaty between us. My stomach churned uncomfortably when it dawned that I had no other choice but to apologize and hope he would somehow forgive me.

"I- I'm sorry, father, I was just-"

"What are you doing here?" He repeated, pronouncing each word separately in a hard tone.

Before I could answer, Esme's face appeared behind the doorframe.

"Edward, what's going on? What's wrong?" She asked, placing a gentle hand on my father's shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw me standing in the middle of the room, then flashed towards the picture as a look of understanding came across her face.

"Is everything alright son?" Carlisle asked, joining in on the scene. His tentative eyes froze when they glanced upon me, and grew still with concern.

My father turned towards Carlisle, doing his best to conceal his internal ferocity to the man he cared for so much. "Who gave her permission to be in here?" He demanded.

"Please." I begged, not wanting Carlisle to suffer for my stupid mistake. "Let me explain. I was walking down the hall, but then I saw the picture-."

My father turned towards me, again silencing my pleas of remorse with his fiery gaze. "You know very clearly, Renesmee, that you shouldn't be lurking around my room at night."

By that time Uncle Emmett and Uncle Jasper arrived as well, their eyes darting from me, to my father, to the picture, and then back. I felt horribly exposed, as if stripped of every ounce of respect and dignity I had ever strived to achieve. I couldn't possibly deserve this kind of treatment.

Sensing my distress, Carlisle tried to reason with my father, "She was just curious Edward. She didn't mean any harm."

His eyes flashed to Carlisle, the fire in them growing more prominent by the second. "She's my daughter, Carlisle. I at least have the right to educate her about certain limits that shouldn't be crossed."

My father looked back at me, keeping his face as hard as ever. "Renesmee Cullen. I may not be able to read through your mind, but I advise you to stay away from mine. There are things, things beyond even your comprehension, that are to be kept hidden behind closed walls. And I won't be so tolerable next time if someone decides to break them open."

With that he headed out the door, pausing momentarily beside Uncle Jasper to say something. "Make sure she gets safely to her room." He prompted, then disappeared.

I stared after him, absolutely horrified at what I had done. All the times I had tried to appeal to him, all my attempts of showing him who I was. Wasted.

Esme stepped forward, reaching out with her arms to embrace me, until Uncle Jasper stopped her.

"Leave her be." He whispered, clearly feeling my agony and self-hatred. Being the victim was the last thing I wanted.

Silently following my uncle's orders, they all filed out of the room, leaving me alone with him. Then, very carefully, he placed his firm arm lightly behind my back, pushing me forward a little to escort me to my room. I was completely wrapped up in my thoughts as we walked forward, and didn't notice we had stopped outside my door. I could feel his gaze on my eyes, but I refused to look up at him, wondering why he didn't tell me to go inside.

"Look at me Renesmee," he said in a firm voice. But I still didn't obey.

"Look at me."

Hesitantly, afraid that he would be angry, I lifted my gaze up to meet a pair of intense, golden brown eyes. They stared straight into the depths of my red ones, brimming with silent questions as he examined my face.

Slowly, Uncle Jasper reached into his side pocket and pulled out a white colored handkerchief, unfolding it neatly. Before I could figure out what he was trying to do, he gingerly began to dab away a strange wet moisture from my eyes, placing only the softest pressure on my cheekbones. I didn't realize I was crying.

Uncle Jasper continued dabbing the tears away, staring at them intently so he wouldn't miss a drop. "You should take your father's advice and lay low for a while," he said in a muted tone. "It's going to take time for Edward to get a grip on his emotions, and he's not going to want to talk to anyone until then. Not even us."

Uncle Jasper finished wiping the tears off, and placed the wet handkerchief delicately in the palm of my hand. Our eyes met at the same time, and then he gently nudged my chin up with the side of his index finger, looking at me with an expression of pity.

"Save yourself the heartbreak, Renesmee, and calmly accept what is. Edward's not going to change, and you'll die trying to do so otherwise." He whispered, before finally disappearing down the hall.

I stared at his retreating figure, dumfounded, not knowing who or what to trust anymore.

**~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~**

Five months. Five months had gone by but still my father hadn't spoken a word to me. I decided not to tell Carlisle about my dreams, afraid that he would think I had gone insane, and took Uncle Jasper's advice about distancing myself. Though the silence grew worse and worse as each day became more monotonous than the last. The only entertainment I could take pleasure in was during the evening, when my father played the piano.

Ever since the incident, he had made a good habit of playing on his grand piano for at least an hour or two each day. And every time, his music always left me amazed. Most of the songs he played were sad and brooding, but there was one in particular that stood out from the rest of them. It was slow, and had an irrevocably sweet tone the way a lullaby did. I would watch him constantly, peeking through the silver rails of the stairwell, and marvel over the way his hands flew across the keys, making beautiful music that gave me a glimpse into his heart.

I desperately wished to learn how to play the majestic instrument, already thinking of songs of my own to compose. But I knew better than to lay a finger on my father's most prized possession. The grand piano was his; every key, every stroke, every beautiful sound the instrument made sung to him. He had placed his claim on it, and it was a strong bond that couldn't be broken. How stupid of me to even think that I would be worthy of such a privilege.

But today was possibly the worst day yet, the day that I hated the most.

My birthday.

The whole house felt like it was dead; no movement, no sound, absolutely nothing. Everyone was busy in their own pastimes, feeling the lifeless atmosphere themselves, and of course my father was nowhere in sight. Carlisle and Esme were the only ones who had bothered to say happy birthday to me, but they hadn't placed much enthusiasm behind the words. So much for being eight.

The day slowly dragged on into night, and I found myself sitting in the middle of my bed with the alarm clock positioned in lap, staring intently at the hour hand. Why was time so slow?!

I groaned, rolling off the bed and grabbed a reading book from the shelf next to me. All this moping around wasn't going to get me anywhere, and I had already wasted most of the day doing nothing. With a heavy sigh I made my way down the stairs, and seated myself next to Uncle Emmett and Jasper who were thoroughly engaged in a game of chess.

Not wanting to be rude, Uncle Emmett decided to express his well wishes. "Happy birthday Renesmee."

I smiled at his attempt to make me feel better, but his words gave me no justice. "Thank you, Uncle Emmett, but to be honest I've never really been happy on this day."

He looked up from the strategic black and white squares, seeming puzzled my by little comment. "Why? You should always be happy on your birthday."

"Of course," I complied. "I've always been grateful that I was born, or at least that I was turned out somewhat human." I said with a small smile. "But still, it makes me sad to know of the price my mother had to pay in order to keep me alive."

"Your sadness is irrational, Renesmee. "Uncle Jasper interjected. "Bella died of weakness, not childbirth."

"I know that." I said, staring at my interconnected fingers. "However, you forget that she didn't carry any ordinary human baby in her womb. She carried a strong, half breed vampire, that grew in an incredibly short duration of two months."

My uncles remained silent, still struggling to understand where I was getting at.

"And yet," I continued, "even after all those years ago, my father's mind still lives in that unforgettable moment of her death, suffering and dying. It pains me, every day, to admit that I can't satisfy his sadness, because I have no hold on him. The only hold I can think of is..."

"Is what?" Uncle Emmett asked.

"Is blood." I whispered, feeling as the severity of the words sunk in.

Both my uncles were at a loss of disagreement, remaining incredibly speechless for the first time ever. Their gazes remained fixed upon my face, and stared at me as though I had said the most shocking thing in the world. Maybe telling them wasn't such a good idea.

Uncle Jasper opened his mouth to say something, but right before he could even speak, my father came into the room. To my relief, he hadn't heard our conversation, but paused ever so slightly on his way to the piano to look at my uncles, who now had their eyes glued intently on the chess board. I figured they must be trying to conceal their thoughts of my little monologue from him, and I relaxed instantly after he gave up, resuming his walk to the grand piano. Despite the beautiful music, I wasn't feeling comfortable sitting in the same room with him, and decided it was an appropriate time for me to go to bed. Besides, the tense atmosphere was getting me more depressed by the second.

Standing up quietly, I gave a small 'good night' to my uncles, and started my way up the stairs. The last thing I heard was Uncle Jasper's voice claiming his victory.

"Check mate." He said, and I couldn't help but smile at the low thud of Uncle Emmett's king when it hit the wooden board.

**~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~**

My eyes snapped open from their dreamless sleep when I heard the muffled, angry voice of my father echoing from downstairs. I immediately rose up off the bed and listened more closely to whom he was arguing with. Something was horribly wrong.


	4. Chapter 4- The Final Decison

**Music- In the House in A Heartbeat: John Murphy.**

**Chapter 4- The Final Decision.**

I crawled down on my knees, placing them against the hard floor, and leaned in to press my ear against the wood so I could hear better.

"What exactly are you proposing Emmett?" My father's heated voice demanded, barely audible through the thickness.

"Edward, all I'm saying is that you should lighten up a little on Renesmee, just for the sake of her well-being." Uncle Emmett said.

I stiffened up a little at the sound of him addressing my name. Why were they were talking about me?

"I case if you've forgotten, Emmett, Renesmee isn't a human child who'll just let her emotions get the better of her. She's a strong half breed vampire that can cope with difficult feelings, painful or not."

I recognized Uncle Jasper's voice as it interfered in their argument. "If you're implying that Renesmee has no feelings due to the fact that she's a vampire halfling, then I suggest you reconsider your opinion because you're dead wrong. Anyone who knows her can tell how miserable and hopeless feels, completely abandoned by her ignorant father."

A volley of hisses and snarls followed his comment, frightening me a little, until Esme broke up their violent dispute.

"Stop," she pleaded. "You're going to wake up Renesmee."

"She's right," Carlisle agreed. "There's no need to make such a loud scene over this."

"And why not?" My father challenged with a taunting edge in his tone. "At least Jasper and Emmett get to see how hypocritical they're being on the case of my meager attitude."

"What the hell are you trying to say?" Uncle Emmett prompted, the volume in his voice increasing.

"I'm saying," my father seethed, "that you've had as much contribution in her suffering as much as I've had."

"That's not true," Uncle Jasper said. "I'll admit that we've distanced ourselves a little from her over the years, but we have never openly persecuted her the way you do."

"Oh really? My father growled. "Then tell me, tell me you don't feel sad remembering Alice and Rosalie being mutilated by the werewolves every single time you see her. Tell me!"

"Enough Edward!" Esme commanded in an angry tone I had never heard before.

Uncle Emmett ignored her and continued to argue with him. "Edward you know that whatever happen with the wolves wasn't her fault. She had no role in it."

"No role?" he asked, outraged. "If it wasn't for her, the treaty would never have been broken. If it wasn't for her Bella would still be alive! "

"That's enough son." Carlisle interrupted. "Bella had to do what she could for her child. Even if it meant to give up her body."

"Which gives me more the reason not to trust Renesmee." my father responded. "Just think, Carlisle, think of what would happen if she went out in public."

"That will never happen," Uncle Jasper reasoned. "The humans are safe as long as she stays here."

"But the question is how long," my father contradicted. "Renesmee's already convinced herself that she'll go to high school when she's old enough, but she has no experience with thirst. It's only a matter of time before the blood in her veins will want to live on something other than food."

"I'm afraid you're right." Carlisle said gravely. "We tried giving her animal blood before, when she was a baby, but the human side of her body wouldn't grow on animal blood, and the vampire side wouldn't be satisfied until her thirst was quenched."

"So what are we going to do?" Esme asked fearfully. "She can't stay here for the rest of her life."

"If it's necessary then she will." My father seethed, his voice as hard as stone. "I won't have any child of mine hurting innocent people. And if she does, then I'll make sure she won't see another human again."

"You're being too callous, Edward." Uncle Emmett growled. "Renesmee deserves to be free."

"Freedom doesn't mean to become a monster," my father snarled. "Either she accepts her fate, or drowns in it."

"And by accepting you mean being locked up in a house forever?!" Uncle Emmett shouted. "You're the one who caused her damn fate, so you finish it!"

"Fine!" He bellowed with rage, exulting a shiver out of me. "You want me to finish it? I'll finish it right now."

Before I had enough time to recover from the chaos of it all, the door was suddenly ripped off its hinges, and I screamed as it flew like a bullet across the room, missing my face by mere inches. Looking up from the protection of my arms, I stared disbelievingly through the cloudy sawdust at the tall, lean figure positioned at the doorframe of my room.

As the debris cleared, my eyes locked instantly with a pair of blazing gold ones, widening in fear as the fire in them increased with fury and anger. No, this beast couldn't be my father. My father would never lay a hand on me no matter what I had done...would he? Could he?!

The animalistic monster crouched, his lips curling back over his teeth, and I closed my eyes in silent prayer, trying to find a way in my heart to forgive him for the sin he was about to commit.

Suddenly, a thunderous boom forced me to snap my eyes open, and I gasped in astonishment at the sight of the monster struggling and squirming fiercely in the steel grip of Uncle Emmett, its wild eyes still positioned only on me.

"Are you crazy Edward?!" Uncle Emmett roared as the thing continued to tussle in his large arms.

I felt a cold, soothing hand touch the side of my face as Esme wrapped her strong, pale arms around my waist and pressed me tightly against her chest in order to shield me from all the destruction going on.

"Don't look." She whispered, doing her best to avert my eyes. But they remained locked in the gaze of the predator.

"Are you really going to kill your own blood Edward!?" Uncle Jasper yelled. "Bella's blood?!"

With that, something clicked in the monster's mind and he immediately stopped his violent thrashing. The anger in his eyes stilled as he looked down at me with a blank expression on his face, as if confused of what had happen. Slowly, realization struck him, and the familiar face of my father could be seen as he remembered who I was.

Numbly pulling out of Uncle Emmett's grasp, he took a hesitant step forward, the expression on his face a mixture of pain and remorse, but instantly froze after Esme snarled at him, tightening her grip on me a little. My father took a shaky step back, still staring at me with horror filled eyes.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, and ran out of the room.

_'No, wait.'_ I wanted to cry out, desperately wishing he would come back. But then it hit me that he would never come back, because he was already dead. He died the same moment my mother had, the same human girl.

It was all real.

"Renesmee are you alright?" Carlisle asked, looking at me with deep concern.

"Say something Renesmee." Esme pleaded, shaking me slightly. "Renesmee?"

"Help." I gasped, as I let go of the last link of sanity I was holding on to, and gave in to the dark shadows that surrounded me.

**~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~**

My head hurt when I woke up again, an odd ringing filling my ears as the moonlight shone brilliantly across the familiar room. All remains of the shattered door were now gone, but there was still small crack on the wall which reminded me of the previous events that occurred before I fainted.

I sat up shakily, my entire frame trembling like a leaf, and held my head in my hands as I choked back the sobs which threaded to overpower me.

What had I done? How could I have let this happen? My subconscious was always showing me the truth, but I had accepted the lie. Bella died the same day I was born, I had drained her entire body of blood, and Aunt Alice and Rosalie was killed by the werewolves. That was why they were all running, in order to protect me. Since I was an abomination to some kind to treaty they had.

I stopped shaking when I remembered something my father had said in their argument.

_"She can't stay here for the rest of her life."_

_"If it's necessary then she will." _

_If it's necessary then she will..._

Those last words rung loudly into my ears like a bell, an execution bell. I was a blood craving monster that was to kill innocent civilians when I grew thirsty, and there was nothing I could do about it. They had lied to me about going to high school; Carlisle, Esme, all of them. This exile wasn't only a precaution, but it was my punishment as well. I had murdered half of my family and this was the price I had to pay.

I looked fearfully at the walls of my room, no longer feeling the same comfort as I used to. This wasn't a room at all, it was a cage. My cage, to keep me away from the world I desired to belong to the most. Decades will change into centuries, and yet I will remain locked up in this asylum, dreaming of the day I'll be free.

A day that will never come.

I raised my arms up to my face, seeing invisible chains coiled around them, and I knew this was a decision I had to make, a decision that was as inevitable as my own destiny itself.

Could I do it? Could I escape this immutable fate that forcefully burdened upon me?

That's when I made my final decision, a decision that would determine all things.

I was going to escape.


	5. Chapter 5- Escape

**Music- Crawl: Superchick**

**Chapter 5- The End of Renesmee Cullen**

For the rest of the morning I sat numbly at my desk, sitting with nothing but a copy of _Mansfield Park _lying in front of me. It was a good piece of literature, not my most favorite, but for some reason it wasn't drawing me in as usual. This kind of behavior was strange, considering the fact that I'd always be thoroughly engaged in any kind of distraction available, and surprisingly I didn't care. My mind no longer wanted to play the fool and live in a world that could never exist. Fiction was fiction. Period.

Releasing a shaky breath of air, I quietly closed the book and put it back on the shelf next to me. It was no use, for I had been reading the same sentence at least about an hour now. Nothing could distract me from this heart breaking agony which threatened to rip me apart into a million pieces. There were questions that I had desperately been trying to avoid since last night, but I knew I was going to have to come face to face with them right now.

How could I live in a world without my family? Where would I live? Alaska had one of the harshest terrains in the world, not to mention an immense population of grizzly bears, and was isolated from the rest of continental US. Hitchhiking my way into Canada wasn't an option either, unless if I wanted to be pulled over by border patrol agents. There were absolutely no connections or relations I shared with anyone in the outside world that could help me. It was just me on my own.

That's when I realized another horrible flaw in my disastrous plan. Even if I managed to escape, even if I found a way out of this prison, my family's abilities would always work against me. Vampires were incredibly agile creatures, lethal predators designed to kill without any flaw or difficulty. They had eyes which could spot even the tiniest speck of dust and ears that could pick up the racing pulse of a human heart. Speed wasn't a problem for them either; not even the fastest animals known to man could keep up with such an unconquerable beast. It would be lucky for me to even make it past the front door.

I covered my face with my hands, wondering if I would ever be able to win my own freedom with so many odds against me. The only ability I actually had was my mind, and nothing more. I shivered at the idea of how my father would react if he found out what I was planning. He would do even worse than he did last night.

All of a sudden I felt a cold hand on my shoulder and jerked my head up in fright with a horrified gasp, thinking it was him. How had he read my mind? And why was he touching me?

But all of my questions came to an abrupt halt when I saw it was just Carlisle. The hand on my shoulder tightened a little in response to reassure me that he meant no harm. Carlisle looked tenderly into my startled eyes with a slight twinge of concern on his face. Of course, I thought lamely, he was obviously worried about my odd behavior.

"Are you alright Renesmee?" He asked quietly, keeping his face guarded."I knocked, sweetheart, but you didn't answer."

I hastily gathered whatever composure I had left and smiled a little, feeling utterly disgusted at myself for putting on such a cheap mask of tranquility in front of a man like him. Since when had I become so shameless?

"I'm fine grandfather, just a little tired. That's all."

Carlisle released his grip from my shoulder, and slowly kneeled down before me, taking both of my hands into his. They looked so small and vulnerable compared my grandfather's, a bitter reminder that my mature mind was trapped in the body of an eight year old, and felt so protected in his iron strength.

"I'm getting very worried about you Renesmee." He whispered, staring directly into my red eyes with deep intensity. "There's something wrong, something that's going to happen. I don't know exactly what, but it feels like your mind is slipping into somewhere very cold. I don't intend to frighten you, but you must tell me if there's anything you want to talk about."

I sat there in complete shock and terror, feeling like a bird locked in the gaze of a snake. My heart pounded audibly to my own ears and I was sure he could hear it. How do I respond to a question like that? Carlisle was sincerely asking me to tell him the truth, and I was going to do what, lie? It felt so unchivalrous and cowardly, though I didn't have a choice.

"No." I responded slowly, as if testing to see whether or not I was sure of my assessment. "No, nothing's wrong."

Carlisle continued to stare unfathomably into my eyes, probably trying to break through whatever mental barrier my mind had placed to inescapably around my emotions, but gave up after a while seeing that I wasn't going to budge.

"Alright." he said, sighing quietly. "I just came here to tell you that the rest of us will be leaving soon to go hunting. There's a rain storm coming tonight, and we want to get out of Denali before it strikes."

"How long will you be gone?"I asked.

Carlisle ran a hand through his blonde hair while squinting his eyes in thought. "Possibly three or four days. However long it takes for the storm to calm down."

"Sounds like it's going to be a big one."I whispered.

"Yes," he agreed, looking into my eyes again. "It's going to be a big one."

The silence that dragged on between us became much too unbearable to handle as an odd sense of doom and despair hung into the air like a toxic gas. I tried my best not to give into the fear of the moment, but I had to admit that Carlisle was right. There was a storm coming, and none of us knew how or when it would hit. But when it did, it would be too late. Nothing would ever be the same again in our close knit family and it was all because of me. Because _I_ was the storm.

"Edward will be staying with you." Carlisle said unexpectedly, and I mentally cringed in response to this new piece of information. "But if you're not comfortable with the idea of being alone with him, Renesmee, we can always-"

"No." I said quickly, surprised by the ferocity of my tone. Usually I was a very non-aggressive person. "That's not necessary Carlisle, I have no qualms whatsoever about staying here with my father." That last part was a lie, of course. I didn't want to even stand within a five mile radius of him. In fact, I didn't even want to see his face.

"If you're sure." he said, squeezing my hands gently then disappearing through the door frame just as quickly as he came.

I wrapped a quivering arm around my torso, trying to fight off some of the guilt building up in my mind. Letting go of my father and uncles would be hard, but trying to forget about Carlisle and Esme was impossible. They were the only ones who had protected me from the dark shadows of isolation, encasing me with their love and warmth. If my grandparents had turned a blind eye on me just like the rest of them had, I would more or less be rotting away in my own misery, begging for death to take me just to get away from the silence. And despite of all things they had done for me, here I was planning an impractical escape into the unknown world of civilization. An impractical, hopeless escape with no possibilities...

That's when a small yet significant fact about tracking came back to me from the deep subconscious of my memory, and I went numb for a moment. The rise and fall of my chest increased with every breath I took, and the tense atmosphere from earlier became even more suffocating. When all the facts and details floating around in my brain clicked together, I jumped up in surprise, causing the chair I was sitting in to hit the floor loudly because of the force of my movement. No that couldn't be possible, could it?

Quickly running to my shelf, I grabbed a small book about Alaskan hunting and haste fully flipped through the pages, searching frantically to find the passage I needed the most. In the midst of my sporadic flipping, my eye caught the title page of the section labeled _Tracking_ and I paused abruptly to read the paragraph below it.

_Alaska is a very wet place that has frequent rainfall occurring month per month. Usually a light rainfall will weaken a human's scent, but in order to completely mask it one must be under heavy downpour._

My palms felt sweaty as I read the last sentence over and over again as if it were some strange, unfamiliar language. After a while the laminated cover of the book slipped from my clammy fingertips and hit the wooden floor almost inaudibly.

That was it, that was the key. That was the thing that I had been waiting for, the only weapon I could really use in this fight against destiny.

The rain.

I saw my plan play out perfectly right in front of my eyes. Carlisle, Esme, and my uncles would leave Denali to go hunting while I stayed here with my father. He would go on with his everyday activities, moping and wallowing in his own misery, until night approached. That was the time he played the piano. By then it would be heavily pouring outside, drenching anything and everything that came within its violent cacophony of thunder and lightning. With the blatant melody of keys accompanying it, my father would never notice me slip outside my window into the giant spruce tree beside my room, and escape . From there I was free to go wherever I wanted.

My best option available was to flee to the great Copper River of Alaska, not far from Denali, and stowaway on one of the nearby trade ships. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance I had for a clean break. By then the rest of them would have returned home and noticed that I was gone. I'm pretty sure my father wouldn't find out until the rest of them came back. He never notices anything.

My mind raced frantically from thought to thought, thinking of all sorts of pessimistic things that could go wrong. My father catching up to me, starving to death, getting eaten by a bear, encountering a _human_. I shivered at the thought.

Did it really have to be so soon? Originally when I thought of this I had assumed I'd wait a month or two, maybe even a year. Now I had only a matter of hours before I separated myself from them forever.

The nerves in my body quivered with anxiety and terror as the situation in front of me truly began to sink in. In only a couple of hours all this was about to end. In a couple of hours the world that I had lived in, the world that had kept me in the dark, was about to be annihilated as reality collided with it.I heard nervously as each _tic, tic, tic _of the second hand of my clock grew louder and louder, reminding me that time was running out.

Without thinking I bolted through the door less entrance of my room, not knowing where or who I was going to go to. I just needed to see someone, anyone.

But before I knew it, I collided with something very hard and big, as if it were a large brick wall. My forehead and jaw screamed in pain as their bony surface crushed unexpectedly against the immobile solid, knocking me back to my feet until a pair of big muscular hands wrapped around my shoulders to steady myself.

It was no other that Uncle Emmett. His dark eyes seemed as surprised and started as I was, but there wasn't any annoyance or anger behind his otherwise grim expression. In fact there was a hint of amusement twinkling on the sides of his cheekbones as they ticked a little to keep from smiling. He would do that every now and then, smile or smirk at something unusual or funny that occurs in our household, but most of his days went by with heavy sighs and frowns as he looked outside his window into the cool Alaskan night, staring at the moon with grief and sadness. I had never understand the meaning behind it, but I guess I know now.

"Going somewhere, speedy?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm so sorry Uncle Emmett, I didn't mean to-."

"Relax, kid." He interrupted, squeezing my shoulders lightly in reassurance. "I'm not going to throw a hissy fit like Edward did last night."

I flinched as I remembered the violent and hostile encounter I had with my father, and Uncle Emmett's eyes flashed with a look of regret and guilt when he realized what he had just said, instantly withdrawing his hands from my shoulders. That same grim mask of sadness and despair was back on his placid face, hiding the man who was truly him, the man I wanted to see.

"Sorry." He mumbled, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. "Looks like my big mouth has a way of making things worse doesn't it?"

"No, no." I reassured. "Really I'm fine, I'm just... a little appalled at the moment."

Uncle Emmett turned his face to the side a little, that same amused expression twinkling on his face again. "Appalled? Isn't that word a bit too advanced for you."

Out of all the chaos and disarray of my current situation I laughed, actually laughed for the first time in months after continuous drama. If only he knew how advanced my mind actually was.

"What can I say?" I teased. "I was born thirty-five and grow middle aged each year."

The little tick on Uncle Emmett's cheekbones curled up into a smile as he revealed his set of ultra white glistening teeth, the happiness in them spreading throughout his entire face and illuminating the rest of his body. It was very rare and fascinating to watch this new side of my Uncle, like a boy watching a baseball game for the first time. See what I meant when I said my family would look even more beautiful if they smiled.

"Well, I can't argue with you on that one," he said. "But it looks like that you'll still have to wait a few years to get those many wrinkles."

I laughed again at his joke, and nodded in agreement. "Wrinkles indeed."

"You two seem to be having fun." A quiet and eerie voice commented, and before I could even blink Uncle Jasper appeared beside Uncle Emmett, his calm face observant and watchful. The atmosphere around us was very peaceful and relaxed, like a gentle breeze in the middle of spring, and his own face seemed to brighten a little in response to the new change. At least I got to see them be happy before I left.

That was until he said the words that ruined it all, "Carlisle and Esme are waiting for us by the Jeep, Emmett."

My nerves froze in panic and terror when I realized that this was the last time I would ever see them. "You're leaving right now?" I choked out, trying to hold back the sadness in my voice.

Uncle Jasper turned to look at me speculatively, his eyes brimming with confusion and silent questions. "Yes. Didn't Carlisle tell you?"

"He did." I told him, trying to calm down my raging emotions. "I just didn't think it would be so soon."

Uncle Jasper continued to stare at me with blank confusion, looking as though he were trying to solve a difficult math equation in his head, and before he could ask another question Uncle Emmett spoke up.

"Well, we better get going if we want to make it out of the storm in time." he said, glancing down at his wrist watch.

"Do you mind if I come with you to the door?" I asked quietly.

Uncle Emmett shrugged indifferently while Uncle Jasper nodded, and the three of us made our way down the staircase in silence. I tried to make my pace as slow as possible, wanting to savor these last few seconds between us, but I knew that the longer I waited the more difficult it would be. I'd extend my leave to two days, then twenty days, and thirty days until I felt like I was tired of waiting and give up completely on my mission. Time could sometimes be so strange; it was what we wanted the most but used recklessly. I didn't know how old my father and uncles were, but if they had ever looked away from the past and into the future, then they might have actually gotten over the death of their wives. But it was too late for them now. It was too late for all of us.

My mind came back into reality when Uncle Emmett opened the front door with a quick swing of his arm and disappeared through the door frame with blinding speed. Uncle Jasper turned to follow him, but I involuntarily grabbed his arm, not knowing what had made me do that, and he looked back at me with complete shock as if I had just shot lightning out my eyes.

"Tell my grandfather and grandmother I said goodbye." I prompted, my voice breaking a little. It wasn't a request, it was an order. "Promise me you'll tell them."

Uncle Jasper stared down at me incredulously, the confusion in his eyes burning like a sporadic flame on a candle, but made no attempt whatsoever to ask me the reasons behind my emotions. That was the one thing I liked about Uncle Jasper, he understood that people needed their own space and privacy sometimes. But secretly, a part of me was wishing that he would see through the mask of deception and stop me from doing this unforgivably act of selfishness. It was too painful.

"I will." He promised, the sincerity in his voice ringing out unquestionably.

My tight grip on his immalleable arm loosened a little, the color returning to the numb, whitened knuckles of my hand, and I placed it carefully against my torso and as if it were a delicate piece of glass. I'd made an accidental slip, a mistake. I should have been more careful with my emotions around Uncle Jasper, and stayed in my room like the good girl I was. Could the world have made such a feverish fool?

I turned my head away from him, not wanting anyone to see the pain and conflict raging within the red irises which no one seemed to understand, and stared outside the window at Esme who was loading up the Jeep with all various kinds of hiking equipment. She flipped her head to the side, moving the heavy curtain of caramel hair behind her shoulder, and in the midst of her actions her eyes caught mine. The same affection and warmth that I had cherished for so many years returned to the placid face of my grandmother, and she smiled radiantly at me. I raised corner of my mouth to return the gesture, trying to make it look as convincing as possible, and she soon went back to her stashing. I was going to miss that so much.

From the corner of my eye I could tell that Uncle Jasper was still staring at me, his intense gaze hopelessly trying to read through my facial expressions, but I fought the urge to look back into his penetrating black eyes. I didn't want to feel what I knew I would feel when I viewed the pain and confusion on his face, the same pain and confusion that would reappear when he had discovered what I had done, and then nothing would stop the traitorous tears from revealing what my words couldn't. I had to be strong and resilient as I'd been for these past eight years, and do things without looking back at them. And it had to be now.

"Goodbye Uncle Jasper." I whispered, feeling the severity of my words sink in. I wished I had known my uncle better as a person rather than an authority figure that I was supposed to be nice to. We hardly even knew each other and already we had to say goodbye.

A cold and ghostly silence issued between us for a brief moment when Uncle Jasper paused hesitantly, probably contemplating whether or not he should say something, before quietly reaching for the door handle and slipping into the cold Alaskan air outside. His movements were slow and thoughtful as he made his way to the jeep, giving shy glances every now and then at the window where I was standing, and I hoped he wouldn't speak any of his suspicions out loud to the others. Our gazes met for a brief moment and in that moment I promised myself that I would never forget Uncle Jasper and all that he had done for me. Not even after I was dead.

With a low, respectful nod of his head, Uncle Jasper stepped inside the monstrous Jeep and turned it on. The vehicle roared to live, its rumbling echoing throughout the entire forest, and in a matter of seconds my family joined him as if they had been signaled to do so. Uncle Emmett sat beside Uncle Jasper in the passenger seat, all amusement now gone from his gentle face, and stared vacantly into the rugged forest path ahead. Carlisle situated himself in the back of the Jeep, checking the necessary provisions they needed on their journey, while Esme followed suit. It was all going so fast that my mind wasn't able to process what was happening right in front of me. Why weren't they crying or screaming like I was? Why weren't they doing anything?

My body was completely petrified from doom and anticipation as I watched Uncle Jasper reeve the engine until the heavy tires pushed forward against the thick undergrowth of roots and stones ahead. I hated feeling so weak and powerless in this wooden prison I had been subjected to, and wanted nothing more but to run outside and step in front of the jeep to stop it. But my bravery and willpower grew weaker and weaker as the jeep drove further and further away into the dense forest of trees until the green swallowed it.

And then it was gone.

For a moment I drowned into the pain and misery of my emotions, choking and struggling to find a breath of fresh air in the black water, and when I resurfaced I was not the same girl I used to me. No words, no emotions could describe the heartbreak of being abandoned by a love one, a person who you couldn't live without. My heart felt like a hole had been severed through it, and the blood that that was supposed to stay in was leaking out through the wound until it was nothing but a hollow cavern. What was the point in living when there was no life? If this is living then I did not want life.

I watched in silence as the shadows of the trees darkened and the thick blanket of clouds turned a mean shade of grey, signaling that the end was near. I hadn't moved an inch from my position against the window, still drowning in my pain and misery, and before I knew it day had turned into night. The beautiful, dark sky was hidden behind the stormy clouds, though through its hazy curtain a dim crescent moon could be seen glistening between two fissures in the heavy fog. I absent mindedly wondered whether the wolves would be out tonight as well, the same wolves who had framed me as a murderer of two innocent women. Two women who I had never even known.

"Renesmee." A cold and familiar voice greeted, a voice that I never wanted to hear again. I knew he was there, waiting for me to respond to him, but I refused turn around and meet that same patronizing gaze which had assaulted me for all my life. Instead I stared into the dreary night of the Denali wilderness, memorizing its magnificent features and pointlessly wishing that this night would never end.

"Renesmee." He repeated a bit louder. Alright; he wanted an answer, I would give him an answer.

Slowly, carefully, as if I were about to look into the very eyes of Medusa herself, I turned my body around to face him and lifted my empty gaze up off the floor so that I was staring into his golden irises. My expression was stone hard and cold, colder than his could ever be, and in that stare I didn't feel even the slightest amount of fear or discomfort. My father, on the other hand looked troubled about something, but otherwise kept his face smoothly composed. As if he of all people could possibly worry over me.

All of a sudden, an old, overwhelming desire resurfaced from the dark corner of my mind, a desire that was as frightening as blood lust itself, and I found myself overwhelmed by the strange path my thoughts had taken. As much as this new idea terrified me, I was determined to fulfill this one last wish that would permanently mark the end of our relationship as father and daughter. That would finally end all this internal chaos.

Gathering up all the strength and bravery I had in my small being, I walked up to my father,the distance between us growing closer and closer to his domineering male figure, and moved near to him as I dared. Every nerve in my body was screaming at me to run, but I held my ground firmly and studied his face for any objection to our close proximity.

"May I?" I asked tentatively.

My father's already shock stricken expression became even more conflicted as the two eyebrows between his forehead puckered together in a v shape, forming an upside down mountain between his eyes, and I wanted to reach out and smoothen the lines of tension on his face so that he would look less angry. I didn't want to see the furious monster that almost attacked me last night; I wanted to see my father.

Taking a deep breath of air through my nose I stretched up on my tip toes, praying that I wouldn't lose balance, and held my breath in fear and anticipation. This was probably the most intimate position I had ever been in with any immortal, considering the fact that our no-communication pact didn't allow physical affection, though I couldn't find it in my heart to stop myself .Then, being as careful as a cat about to fall in water, I reached my hand out towards my father's pale, marble face and gingerly touched the side of his cheekbone.

His skin was probably the most fascinating thing I had ever felt in my entire life. It was both hard yet smooth, like a stone that had been rubbed off on its edges, and the contrast between my warmth and his coldness created a small buffer of pleasantry between us. For a second I thought I was touching a piece of glass, so smooth, so perfect, until I felt the muscles of his jaw contract underneath the indestructible layer of skin as it clenched and unclenched.

My eyes flashed up to his face in fear, terrified that he might have reached his limit with my little operation, and our gazes unexpectedly locked with each others as his eyes bored into mine. He didn't look disturbed or disgusted in the least bit, considering the fact that he hadn't pushed me away yet, and for the first time I thought I was really looking into the eyes of Edward Cullen.

I lost myself into the golden orbs of his grace and magnificence, but then I felt an unfamiliar stinging in my eyes and I had to look away. This was just another lie, a deception. I was only seeing things that I wanted to see, just like I had with my dreams, and I wasn't going to give up and sit around so that I could watch life slip away from my hands. At least not anymore.

"Good night father." I whispered, telling him goodbye forever. My tone sounded dead as my soul was, and I realized that this was the last time I would ever see him.

After numbly making my way to the staircase, I didn't look back as I climbed up the steps of doom and despair, still feeling his blank stare following me until I disappeared behind the rails. It was completely dark upstairs, reflecting my internal mood inside and out, and I didn't bother to turn the light on when I ghosted into my room. The dark felt familiar and comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold winter morning, however it wasn't enough to take away the coldness away from my heart. The burning in my eyes now turned into an all out inferno as it made its way down to my throat and chest like lava trickling down a volcano. Slow and deadly.

Fearful of making any sound, I covered my hand over mouth in an attempt to muffle the small sob that threatened to burst through my lips at any given second. It wouldn't help if my father came in to investigate the source of the noise, and if I wanted to escape I had to have a better grip on my actions. Though my chest heaved painfully against my heart as it moved up and down in an irregular rhythm, and before I knew it I was struggling to find a breath of air. At the same time, my throat clenched uncontrollably and I prayed that my father would start playing his piano soon so that I wouldn't have to gag myself to death. I didn't know how much time passed, but finally, after suffering through so much ache and discomfort, I heard the soft trills of piano keys chime from downstairs.

All of a sudden, a great flash of lightning streaked across the night sky followed by a growl of thunder, and I jumped in surprise when I saw that it had begun to pour violently outside in the muddy forest. It was time.

Gingerly touching the small necklace wrapped around my neck, I closed my eyes in agony, remembering how it used to give me comfort in the most difficult of times while, then reluctantly ripped it off as hard as I could. The Cullen symbol shone brilliantly across its smooth edges, reflecting it's silver tint in the darkness, and I set it down on the nightstand next to the handkerchief that Uncle Jasper had given me. The necklace was nothing but a cruel reminder of what I had suffered for all these years, the terrible moments of my imprisonment, and I didn't want to carry around an emblem of a family that I couldn't belong to anymore.

Creeping my way to the window, I gently pulled the lock free from its frame and slid it open as a gust of wind and rain hit me across the face. The spruce tree directly in front of me swayed back and forth, spewing leaves all over the place, while the rain poured over its thick branches. One of the tree's arms was right next to my window, and I leaped towards it when it moved in my direction. My father continued to play his piano, completely unaware that I was dangling and swaying on my arms along with the tree, and didn't hear a thing when I hit the ground with a low thud.

Slowly backing away from the Cullen house, I managed give myself one last glance at the aged mansion before running as fast as I could through the thick cover of the forest.

The rain fell so heavily that I was drenched in a matter of seconds, but I continued to sprint frantically through the uneven surface of stones and roots. I didn't know exactly where I was running to, only that I was running from. My heart pounded painfully against my chest, begging for me to stop, and I clutched it from underneath my shirt as an attempt to calm it down. Hot tears streamed down my face, mixing with the coldness of the rain, and I suddenly tripped over a large tree root causing me to fall into the muddy forest floor.

At that moment I gave into the painful misery and screamed as loud as I could into the dreadful night, wondering how destiny could have been so cruel to me. The chains were now gone from my hands, ripped out savagely by my own determination, but now there were scars in the place of where the manacles had been. My screams slowly turned into broken sobs when I realized that not only had I given up my family, I'd given up my name as well. Because from then on I was no longer the daughter of Edward Cullen and Bella Swan.

I was no longer Renesmee.


	6. Chapter 6- Thirty Years Later

**Music- Bones: MrMs**

**Chapter 6- Thirty Years Later.**

The sun glowed peacefully through the blue, thick surface of water, illuminating its true beauty across the marine life below. A gentle ray of light trailed through the top of the lake and traveled into its dark, unexplored depths like a path leading into a mysterious realm. The small movements of the water around it reflected against the magnificent gold beam with intensity and vivacity while dancing across the edges like a moth next to a luminescent flame. A small strand of my auburn hair floated into view, and I gently swayed it aside to join the rest the hair surrounding my head in its angelic halo.

Following the lustrous ray of light ahead, I swam deeper into the lake, kicking my feet against the water's light hold until I could see the bottom. The underwater plants of elodea rocked back and forth with the quiet rhythm of the current, their long stems intermingling with each other. I looked up at the sun again, whose gaze now shone directly upon me, and closed my eyes to preserve the perfection of the moment.

This was my peace, my serenity. As long as this remained, nothing else mattered in the whole of the world. I would gladly take whatever pain the universe had to give me, whether it was the most blistering of thirsts or heartbreaking of emotions. But the only thing that existed when I was down here was the slow and steady beating of my heart as it adapted to the lack of air. I exhaled slowly, releasing the remaining few bubbles of oxygen I had left. I could go hours without breathing.

Then all of a sudden, BOOM! A loud, guttural collision echoed underneath the silent bowels of the lake, dispelling my perfectly orchestrated illusion, and before I could even open my eyes an unexpected fury of water rammed against me. I felt like a rag doll being carelessly thrown around in all directions as my body met the force of the impact, and the muscles of my arms and legs were powerless against the strength of the current. The harsh ripples of water stung my face painfully, lashing against my cheekbones with their violent assault as they shot through me like bullets. What in the world just happen?

After the strange quaking had stopped, my eyes fluttered open and saw a massive disarray of silver bubbles floating in front of me. They moved all over the place, scurrying frantically to get out of the water so that they could be reunited with the sky again, and blocked my vision from seeing what had created the sudden vibration. I roughly pushed them away with my hands, the frustration and anger fueling up my determination like gasoline in a wildfire, and when I could finally see again my heart almost stopped beating altogether.

Just mere centimeters away from my face was possibly the largest friggin boulder I had ever seen. It was at least thirty feet wide, covering the entire ground beneath me, and the base of the structure was cracked a little from hitting the bottom so roughly. The top of the boulder shaped down like a parabola and reached all the way up to the surface of the lake, crossing the borderline between two different worlds until it peeked up at the sun, now completely hidden behind the giant stone.

Startled by this sudden twist of events, I jerked away from the massive boulder, flailing my arms back and forth to put some distance between us, and inadvertently gasped without thinking about where I was. Before I knew it, water flooded down my throat, choking and burning, and I tasted the disgusting pollutants that inhabited the lake.

Desperate for a breath of fresh air, I kicked my legs up in a scissors like motion, lungs feeling like they were about to explode with the amount of water weighing down upon them, and with two powerful pumps launched myself through the lake until I broke through the surface with a giant gasp.

The newly found air in my lungs pushed the water up my throat until I was coughing and gagging it out of my body. I could still taste the musty flavor of the lake on my tongue and I almost threw up at the thought of digesting all the various bacteria and waste material of the fishes in the water. Disgusting.

"Oh Neeeesie." A horribly familiar voice crooned, and I immediately stopped my violent choking when I realized who it was. Of course, of course I should have known it was her!

Enraged and blinded with anger, I twisted my body and searched frantically through the dense cover of the forest around me until I saw the little harpy smiling in triumph.

Meet the devil.

"Gina!" I yelled in ardent frustration.

Lying on her belly on top of a large, flat, protruding piece of stone by the side of the lake was none other than my obnoxious sister Gina Winthrip. She kicked her legs casually against the air, crossing and uncrossing them with every sweeping motion, and rested her chin on the palms of her hands. The long, thick strands of her dark bangs covered the amusement gleaming in her eyes, but through the small tresses I could see a glimpse of her golden irises shining underneath. The leather jacket wrapped tightly around her body outlined her muscular shoulders as they shook uncontrollably in silent laughter. Her lips were stretched up to a large grin, revealing the row of gleaming, razor sharp teeth behind them.

"What's the matter Nessie?" she teased. "Afraid of a little rock?"

"That 'little rock' almost killed me, Gina. I could have drowned!"

She laughed heartily at my annoyance, throwing her head back in delight, and I did my best not to hurl myself at her that very moment.

"Think of this as one of your training sessions pupil." she said, addressing me in an authoritative voice. "Lesson number one: always be prepared for the unexpected."

I wanted to roll my eyes at her witty remark. Last week she told me that lesson number one was to do whatever she told me to do.

"Thank you master." I replied sarcastically. "Now will you please tell me why you suddenly decided to educate me on this fine evening?"

"McCartha wants you in for dinner." She explained, effortlessly writing her name on the hard stone she was lying on with her pinkie finger. The rocky surface underneath pulverized into dust as she ground her nail into it until a thin, white powder remained around the carved edges. Then, her eyes flashed back to mine, almost unnoticed under the heavy curtain of bangs, and she grinned wickedly.

"Not to mention that I like to make you look like the vulnerable little lamb you really are. Its soo...," she trailed off, trying to find the right word to finish her sentence, "cute."

My anger bubbled and seethed inside my head until it shot out of my ears like a steam engine. If there was one thing that annoyed the hell out of me it was called being cute, and Gina knew exactly which button she was pressing when she called me 'cute'. But right now I wanted nothing more but to show her how _cute_ I could actually be.

"You know what, you're right." I said calmly, trying to make my voice as light as possible. "It is cute."

I swam closer to where she was, feeling like a vigilant shark gliding across the smooth water as I hunted my prey, and smiled sweetly at her with false warmth and admiration. Gina's eyes narrowed in confusion and perplexity, clearly taken aback by my sudden change in mood, and leaned her head to the side to examine my facial expressions. She looked a little frightened by the large smile spread across my face, and showed her 'who are you and what have you done with my sister' look. She should be scared, I thought smugly, because she was about to get a taste of her own medicine.

"And you want to know what else is cute?" I asked, now floating just inches away from her.

Gina's eyes narrowed even more as she replied suspiciously. "What are you-"

Before she could utter even a single word, I grabbed her solid, granite shaped neck and flipped her over with as much force as I could. She fell head first into the water, body slamming against it with a big splash, and my wide smile turned into a large, euphoric grin. Having abnormal strength was probably the only redeemable feature when it came to immortality. And when Gina came up to breathe again, I couldn't help but laugh raucously at the sorry sight in front of me.

Her bangs were completely stuck onto her eyes—making my sister look like a shaggy dog that just came out bathtub—and in between the short, dark brown locks were thick clumps of algae. The plant engulfed Gina into a green mess from head to toe, making her look like the sea monster instead of me, and it wasn't hard to guess that underneath her algae coiled bangs she was mad.

"Lesson number two." I said vaingloriously. "Don't throw 'little rocks' at Carlie unless you want to look like a second hand version of Ursula."

Raising her hand out of the water, Gina swiftly pushed her bangs back against the crown of her ponytail and exposed the full inferno of her golden eyes. They were firm and scornful, hardened by all the years of suffering and fighting she had to put up with as a human, and shimmered with rage. Then, almost simultaneously, a coy smile stretched across her thin lips, curling up atrociously with cruel intentions, and her eyes gleamed with mischief like the burning embers of coal. This was not good.

"You really shouldn't have said that." She purred, before crouching down in an animistic stance and leaping on me.

We both crashed into the water roughly, wrestling and growling like savages in our fight for dominance. Gina's fingers dug painfully into my shoulders, trying to pin me down against the water, and I could do nothing but submit to her demands. I may be stronger than I used to be, but I was no match against the brutality of a superior vampire like Gina. She worshiped fighting, craved it like an alcoholic craves beer, and takes the first opportunity she can get to show how powerful she is.

I struggled miserably to get out of her harsh grip, falling and jerking around like a fish out of water, until I heard a strong and firm voice bring us out of our little squabble.

"Ginadora."

Gina stopped her movements abruptly, seeming frustrated at whoever ruined her fun, and looked in front of her at the woman we could never disobey.

"McCartha!" She greeted rambunctiously, a large smile spreading across her face. "Sorry it's taking so long. You know how hard it is to deal with sea monsters, right?

Seeing this as an opportunity to escape, I roughly pushed Gina off of me with a low grunt and quickly stood up from the shallow water. I didn't realize that we had reached the shore next to our house.

"McCartha." I greeted formally, walking onto the dry, forest ground in front of me.

The pale and slender woman facing my drenched form ran a hand through her long, brown hair, shaking her head slowly in frustration and disappointment, and I couldn't help but feel guilty for making her so upset.

"Gina," she sighed heavily, her voice as gentle as the wind. "I told you to bring her out of the lake, not to get in it yourself."

"I would have come back earlier without there being algae in my hair if someone didn't overreact."

"That was until you threw a boulder at me," I replied smoothly.

McCartha's eyebrows skyrocketed. "You threw a boulder at her?"

"Well I wouldn't say boulder..." Gina trailed off casually.

McCartha sighed again, muttering something under her breath about 'adolescent teenagers' before continuing on.

"Girls, I made it very clear that the only time I wanted you two fighting was during your training sessions, not as a pastime. You gave me your word that you wouldn't use it as a sport. So, to get things straight, I want the two of you to apologize to each other and then bring the boulder out of the lake. "

Gina and I stared at her disbelievingly, our mouths gaping open like she just told us to go out on a killing spree, and neither she or I made any attempt to comply to her order.

"Now." She prompted, her voice rising furiously.

Gina jutted her chin up, staring unfathomably into the blank air in front of her, and heaved her chest with determination . Although she loved McCartha, Gina's pride was something she valued even more than her own life. She didn't like to be shown as weak, thinking it only downplayed her gender as a woman, and lived in a world where expressing sensitivity was a sin. But she had to know that there was a difference between weakness and sincerity. Although Gina was older than me in human years, I had still lived longer than she had, and it was my duty as the bigger sibling to teach that to her.

Letting go of my own pride, I sucked in a deep breath of air, feeling the anger and annoyance roll off of me in waves, and slowly walked up to the erect form of my sister. She looked like a soldier about to go off into battle as McCartha glowered at her disdainfully, and it was clear that neither of them were about to give up without a fight.

Trying to be cautious in my movements, I gently took her shoulder into my hand, feeling her tensed muscles harden underneath the ivory skin.

"Sis?" I asked quietly, shaking her shoulder a little. "Hey sis."

Gina's eyes flashed towards me warily, her bangs still pushed behind her head, and looked like she was about fall into pieces from the torture going on in her mind.

"I'm sorry." I told her, doing my best to be as truthful as I could. "I should have kept a better grip on my anger rather than taking it out on you. It was very irresponsible and immature of me. Please find it in your heart to forgive me."

My sister looked as though I had webbed feet and a third eye as she stared at me with astonishment, and I couldn't help but wonder what was going on in that crazy head of hers. That was probably the first time I had ever seen her so star struck and speechless by my words. Then, a small smile started to play across the edge of her lips, not a mischievous or triumphant smile, but a Gina smile, and she stepped towards me so that we were standing face to face.

"You know," she said coyly, an odd emotion brewing behind her eyes, "if you weren't such a horrible liar I would have thrown you into the lake right now."

Gina reached left her arm out, angling it so that it looked like she was about to arm wrestle with someone, and curved her palm to the side a little.

"Are we okay?" She asked timidly, real concern leaking into her voice.

I looked at her hand for a moment, teasing her with my apprehensive gaze, before nodding and clasping my left hand with hers. Her expression brightened radiantly.

"By the way," I responded, tightening my grip on her hand, "no matter what you say I'm still the older one."

Gina laughed loudly, her voice echoing through the surrounding trees like church bells, and the tense atmosphere became cheerful once more.

"When pigs fly, Carlie Masen, when pigs fly." She said, then roughly patted me on the back as she released our hands. "You go inside and wash up lil' sis. I'll go take care of the boulder."

Gina swung her head to the side, allowing the long curtain of bangs to cover her eyes again, before running towards the lake and leaping into it miles away. Show off.

"Come." McCartha called behind me, and I turned around to see her smiling gently with approval. Even though she didn't say it, I knew she was proud of what I did. McCartha was loving and gracious to the both of us, but regardless, I was still her favorite child.

The first thing I did upon entering our small house was take a long shower. I was grateful that Gina had found a way to install a large water tank into our place with her amazing engineering skills, because before she came McCartha had to boil water from the lake and use it to wash ourselves. The only thing that Gina enjoyed more than fighting was building things: cars, motorcycles, and even weapons. Metal is metal as she put it.

My long copper hair mixed with the warm water and soap as the disgusting particles of the lake flowed down the drain on the tiled floor beneath me. It had grown seven inches longer than it used to be, and was becoming a hassle to manage. Though despite the constant battle I had face with my hair every morning, I never wanted to cut it completely short. I took pride in my long locks.

After spending a good hour or so just standing there under the shower head, my fingers began to wrinkle up by the amount of moisture they had collected and I decided that it was enough. Even though I was pretty sure that the venom in my body had already destroyed whatever bacteria I swallowed from the lake, I still felt obligated to brush my teeth just to be certain. The last thing I wanted was for Gina to start calling me water baby...again.

I slipped into a nice T-shirt and a pair of sweats before walking out of the bathroom with a towel hung around my neck. I used it to slowly dry the thick, auburn locks of my damp hair without getting my shirt wet in the process. It was a light shade of blue and hung around my frame comfortably. I was about to go downstairs, but when I walked across the hallway I paused momentarily in the narrow corridor to stare at the large emblem of McCartha's family covering the side wall.

It was a great, golden eagle with his head twisted sideways so that it looked like he was flying in the air. His wings were spread out gloriously over the sky, covering the world with its grace and beauty so that everything that fell into its shadow became his. The eagle's eyes were poised over the rest of the animals beneath him and his talons stood out sharp and pointed, ready to strike at anyone who dared harm the creatures below. His dark gaze always had such a strong impact on me, embedding itself into the deepest part of my soul. He was the protector of all.

"You seem distant," her quiet voice commented, but I didn't turn to look at her when she appeared beside me in a moment's notice.

"I was remembering the first day I came here," I said thoughtfully, my mind traveling back so long ago.

McCartha slowly reached her hand out, offering it to me while holding a tray of food in her other hand.

"Is that something I might get to see?" She asked tentatively.

I finally turned to see her pleading gaze on my face, and smiled as I took her hand in mine. It felt like my body was connected to a power outlet, and the energy surged between as it connected our two minds together. I loved the feeling of being able to show my thoughts to others just by a simple touch, and was grateful to have found a gift that I didn't realize even existed.

So we just stood there; staring at the eagle while our minds took us back thirty years ago.

**~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~**

My eyes opened groggily as a small streak of sunlight shone directly upon my eyes. There was a strange pounding in my head that was echoing throughout my ears like a war drum and it was hard to focus on where I was. The last thing I remembered was that I'd left one of the Alaskan trade ships that landed in Washington and escaped as quickly as possible to the dense forest nearby before anyone could notice. For at least three weeks I lived off of only dry berries and leaves on the ground, writhing and aching in hunger, until the fatigue became too much and I let the forest have me. But this place wasn't a forest at all; it was a room.

Gathering up whatever strength I could, I cautiously lifted myself off the wooden floor, using soft blankets underneath my body that were formed into a makeshift bed as leverage, and groaned a little from the sharp pain in my throbbing shoulders. I hadn't eaten anything proper for days, and my stomach felt like jelly as the acids inside it growled like ravenous dogs. I needed food, and fast.

To my relief, I found a silver plate right next to me with a big loaf of bread on it and without thinking of who or what put it there, I grabbed it and began devouring the fluffy surface like there was no tomorrow. My tongue dried up the second I began chewing, but I was way too hungry to care. Nothing in the world could stop me from finishing this off.

Then all of a sudden I felt a cold hand on my wrist, restraining me from eating any further, and I yelped loudly in terror.

"Easy." A calm and soothing voice said, and my head snapped up to see a very angelical figure of a woman squatting down next to me. She looked like a hybrid between an adult and teenager, the prominent features of her face not fully developed yet, though there was a strange dominance about her that seemed very intimidating. Her jaw was heart shaped and curved elegantly while her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders in gentle waves, curling a little towards the end. I became utterly speechless at the celestial sight in front of me, wondering whether all humans were this beautiful.

"Your stomach is only the size of a squirrel right now, and won't feel too well if you overeat." She explained. "Trust me, I know."

Looking down at the half eaten loaf of bread now squished tightly in the harsh grip of my palm, I let the only source of food I had eaten since weeks slip out my fingers and onto the floor beneath me.

She smiled apologetically at my loss, and handed me a glass of thick, light brown liquid.

I balked.

"It's whey," she said. "You'll feel better after drinking it."

I mentally cursed this woman and her glass of whey for taking away my delicious loaf of bread, and reluctantly took the cup with a shaky hand. To my frustration, the glass wouldn't stop slopping around my fingers because the muscles in them were so weak, so she had to bring the glass up to by lips and feed me. What I wasn't prepared for was my reaction.

The taste was completely different than I thought it would be. I was expecting for the drink to taste bitter and grimy like sewage water, but instead it tasted like chocolate-chip cookies in liquid form. Upon drinking it my body warm and full of energy, though after a couple of seconds I found myself staring down at the bottom of the cup with disappointment.

I opened my mouth to ask for more, though suddenly a sharp, blistering pain seared through my upper arm as if a bullet had shot right through it and I winced abruptly, grasping it in my hand to stop the burning.

"What hurts?" the woman asked, concern leaking in her voice.

"M-my arm it..." I trailed off, rolling up the tattered sleeve of my dirty shirt. At first all I saw was clear skin, and I couldn't figure out what had caused my body to act so distressful. Then a small glimpse of purple could be seen as the thin cloth exposed part of my elbow, until I pulled it completely back to reveal a large, ghastly bruise. It had swelled up to the size of a tomato, and was yellowing around the center in an unpleasant way. I must have gotten it when I fell on the ground.

The woman examined the wound closely, her pale face seeming troubled and conflicted with some internal battle raging on in her mind, before very slowly reaching her thin hand out and placing it on top of the prominent bulge forming on my arm. I shivered as her cold skin came in contact with mine, and felt as the goose bumps rose like tiny little needles when she wrapped her fingers around it. It surprised me how freezing her skin was, and ridiculously wondered whether she had kept it in ice all day. But nonetheless, the contrast of our body temperatures felt good against my burning skin better than any of Carlisle's medications or ointments ever could.

Then all of a sudden, a strange tingling began to form underneath the coolness of her hand, until it grew warmer and warmer up to the point that it became immensely hot. My skin felt like it was about to combust into flames by how intense it was, though I couldn't feel the pain of it burning me yet. I panicked, and looked up at the pale faced woman with terror only to see that she was no longer with me.

Her eyes were unfocused as they gazed intently at the bruise underneath her hand, and it seemed as if her mind was in another place than her body. I desperately wanted to shake her shoulder and bring her out of the strange trance, but some part of me thought she must know what was happening. And before I knew it, the warm feeling stopped just as soon as it had started, until I felt nothing at all.

The strange woman blinked a few times, her eyes fluttering back into reality, and gently removed her hand to reveal a patch of clear white skin where the bruise was supposed to be.

I stared at the healed surface of my arm disbelievingly, unable to form a logical explanation for what I was seeing.

"How...how did you...?"

She smiled at me ruefully. "You're not the only one who's different, you know."

I gasped when I saw the golden brown irises of her gentle eyes, and mentally slapped myself for not figuring it out earlier. She was a vampire. Though not only a vampire, but a gifted one too.

But that meant... she knew what I was.

I opened my mouth to ask her the question that was begging to be released from y mind , though she immediately silenced me by placing a finger to her lips.

"We can ask questions later." She said."The only thing I want to know at this point is your name."

I contemplated her request for a moment, wondering whether or not she knew my family would and take me back to them, but finally decided to tell the truth since it was the least I could do.

"Renesmee... Cullen." I whispered, choking out the last word like it was poison in my mouth. I wasn't a Cullen anymore .

The woman looked at me sadly, her golden eyes kind and consoling, and gently took my small hand into hers.

"It's very nice to meet you Rensmee." She greeted. "My name is McCartha Threftwood. I know that you're scared right now, but I assure you that I mean no harm. All I ask for you is to rest. Can you do that? "

I nodded weakly, grateful that she didn't ask for more, but I knew that sometime or later she would want to know I was doing here. She would want to know everything.

"Good." McCartha said with a gentle squeeze to my fingers, before releasing my hand and standing up to full, elegant form. Her hair criss-crossed slightly from the sudden movement, and I discovered that she had the front of it was braided gracefully behind her head so that the side of her ivory neck could be seen. Just before she could reach the door I hurriedly stopped her.

"Ms. Threftwood?"

Her hand paused momentarily against the door frame, and she twisted her head back to look at me.

"Yes?"

I smiled weakly, trying to be as gracious as I could to her hospitality.

"Thank you."

Her expression softened, and the golden irises of her eyes melted into honey.

"Call me McCartha." She said with a kind smile, before walking out the door with her long hair sweeping behind her.

So then days passed by into weeks, and I slowly found myself falling in love with the place McCartha lived. It was much more peaceful and relaxing than Denali, not like how the silence consumed everything it reached, and I wished that I could stay here forever. The large, dense forest encompassing her small home was completely out of sight and sound from the outside world, and right next to it was a beautiful lake. You could see mountains off in the distance with their frosty peaks covered in snow, and I sometimes marveled over how enchanting everything was. Like it had all come out of a dream.

And unlike the giant, nineteenth century Cullen mansion, McCartha lived in a small, two story hut made of spruce. It was warm and comforting, not really as spacey as I wanted it to be, but was something that had to be admired and respected at the same time. Just like McCartha.

She was a strange woman, McCartha. Very different from any of my family members. Unlike them she was always doing something: cleaning the house, gardening, and even working. I discovered that she was a social worker who served around the Seattle area and always at any given time or moment was called up for an unexpected appointment. But there was something about her that I trusted and admired deeply, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Her goodness and strength surrounded her body like a gleaming aura of light, shining beauty in my dark world turning and night into day. Every time she would speak there would be a unique intelligence in her voice that even if she told me two plus two equals five I would gladly believe her. It was deeply inspiring yet frustrating at the same time.

Then one morning, as I was examining the various tapestries and works of art decorated in the upstairs corridor, I heard a soft, familiar humming trail from downstairs. The voice was sharp and clear like the tight strings on a violin, trilling in a strong vibrato, and I knew that it belonged to no other than McCarhta.

She always hummed that strange tune every day while doing all sorts of work around the house, never once failing to capture my attention as I pondered over what significance the song held to her. It wasn't any tune I'd heard before, considering the fact that I had not ever once missed any of my father's piano performances, so I put it down as yet another mystery to solve in my long mental list about McCarhta.

I listened quietly as the melody of her song grew unbearably sweet, and slowly found myself walking down the staircase towards the source of the music. I didn't know what had made me do that, but it was as if the notes had some sort of pull over my body. I submitted myself to the strange spell and blindly followed, but when I reached the end of the staircase, it wasn't McCartha that caught my attention.

It was the big, brown oak piano in the living room.

The instrument was aged and worn, some of its glossy overcoat beginning to chip off from the sides, and the keys were yellowing around the corners like an old man's teeth. Though despite the flaws, I found the piano both majestic and captivating as my eyes wandered over to the big eagle flawlessly carved into the base of the instrument. It took me a second to realize that it was the same eagle as the one on the tapestry upstairs, and I put it down as another thing to find on my list.

Then, another strange, hidden desire beginning to arouse itself from the forbidden corners of my mind, causing my heart to flutter nervously in anticipation. What if I could...play it? The piano had always been such a fascinating mystery to me ever since I heard my father play and constantly nagged my curiosity like a stubborn child. I knew which keys to press and what notes they belonged to thanks to the secret stash of books I smuggled out of Carlisle's study, but the only problem was I'd never played one before. Let alone touch one.

My stomach gave jittery little flips while my insides coiled with unease as I sat down on the small wooden bench facing the instrument. There was an old sheet of music on the stand there titled_ 'Bis Zu Meinem Adler Fällt'_, and I couldn't understand what language it was written in. Perhaps German? But nonetheless the notes were quite easy to identify, so I assumed this shouldn't be too hard.

But the moment my fingertips pressed down upon the aging piano keys, their wires begging to be pulled and stretched after so many years of disuse, I knew that this song would turn out to be a disaster. The notes came out so stiff and uncertain that it felt like my fingers were made of twigs and my mind was being controlled by a robot. There was no spontaneity, no passion, no...life. My hands immediately recoiled back to my sides, seeming frightened by the horrid noise they had created, and for a while I just sat there; trying to work my head around whatever mental block my thoughts had placed around my emotions.

Carlisle had always told me that in order for my heart to be free I had to let go of my mind. But what was I supposed to do when my mind was a ruthless dictator and my heart a spineless coward? Music was something that came from the heart and without it would become nothing except jumbled notes on a sheet of paper. So was it possible that a heart as dead as mine could beat after so many years of adversity?

Taking a slow, tantalizing breath of air through my lungs I let go of everything-my father, my pride, my insecurities- and only focused on the music notes in front of me. Every single baneful thought in my head was carefully bound together in steel cables and pushed away into the dark corners of my mind until it disappeared altogether. I wanted to forget about the pain and angst of living; to let my spirit fly away into a world filled with peace and warmth. And without further deliberation or second thought I began playing. Now you would think that for a girl like me this would be the most nerve racking challenge of my life, but oddly it wasn't. It was a strange kind of reverie that was neither reality or fantasy, but somewhere in between . Maybe that's why my father played the piano so much; to escape.

Though through my phantasmagoric haze something about this song sounded familiar, something I couldn't quite put my finger on. The melody was both soft and intense with a lot of emotion behind it, and it took me a second to realize that this song was familiar. It was McCartha's tune. Which I could no longer hear her humming anymore...

My fingers froze on the piano, completely petrified with fear and panic upon discovering this, and I whipped my head around to see the very slender McCartha leaning her head against the entryway of the living room.

The expression on her face threw me completely off guard. She looked sad, really sad, as if my playing has somehow upset her. Though through the grief I could see pride and admiration glowing profoundly beneath her golden eyes. My bones turned soft for some reason, and I couldn't help but feel embarrassed that she had caught me in the middle of such an intimate act. But that's when a terrifying thought came into mind. What if I had forbiddingly played her piano the same way I was forbidden to play my father's and somehow upset her? Without thinking, I instantly rose to my feet and hurried to apologize.

"I'm sorry McCartha, I didn't know the piano was yours."

As if I weren't already frustrated enough she laughed, actually laughed — her voice a carefree tintinnabulation of wind chimes — and slowly shook her head from side to side with a large grin on her face. I didn't get it. What was the joke?

"Believe me Renesmee, if the piano was mine then half the keys would be destroyed by now from my horrible playing." She said, answering my unspoken question. McCartha walked up to the piano, gently touching the smooth, wooden surface with a tender hand, and I watched as she stared at it with unfathomable eyes, traveling back to some long, distant memory of the past. After while, she responded.

"This piano belongs to my husband, Alexander."

I stiffened upon hearing this new piece of information, unaware that there was another presence that inhabited the house, and was suddenly very nervous for my safety. I knew how territorial male vampires could be from my father.

"Really, where is he? Is he here?" I asked cautiously

McCartha lifted her eyes off the aging wood, and looked up at me with a peaceful yet heartbreaking expression.

"I'm afraid he hasn't been in this world for a long time." She said quietly.

That last bit took me by surprise, and I realized that McCartha was trying to tell me that Alexander was dead. I scolded myself for not have discovering this earlier, but nonetheless I couldn't wrap my head around the concept of her being a widow. After looking at my father and uncles I knew what losing a mate could do to a vampire, though it didn't sound like McCartha at all. She was just so different from them. She lived.

"My condolences." I murmured, not knowing what to say.

"Thank you." She replied, and looked back at the piano to the sheets of music lying on the stand there. "Until Me Eagle Falls." McCartha sighed, translating the title into english. "He made this song for me on our wedding as a promise to protect me as long as he lived. The eagle is a symbol of his family, as well as a symbol of mine, and represents bravery and protection. I never understood where or when he wrote it though, considering the fact that we had spent many years together after I was changed. But strangely, I wasn't surprised. He was always a quiet man for one so brave." She said, a smile pulling at the edge of her lips, and she returned her moony gaze back to me. "You remind me of him."

I sniggered humorlessly at her comment. As if any creature could possibly resemble something like me.

"I really doubt that." I challenged.

McCartha stared at me for a moment, her probing eyes trying to understand the reason behind my words, but didn't object further.

"I wish I could prove you were wrong, but I'm afraid my abilities don't allow me to revive the dead."

"Abilities?" I asked, confused." I thought you were only a healer."

"Healer." McCartha repeated to herself while chuckling under her breath. "You're much too kind as for giving such a potent gift like mine a very innocent name. I guess in a way I am a healer, but you see my ability allows me to do much more than to just heal." She said, and while holding my befuddled gaze explained. "Renesmee, I can control any living thing inside the body; whether it's a cell, nerve, or function."

I just stood there and gaped at her like an idiot, absolutely amazed and dumbfounded at what she had just told me. Even though McCartha's gift seemed so innocuous, for some reason I refused to believe that there could be more beneath the surface. No one could control the body, and my awe quickly turned into skepticism.

"Show me." I demanded.

Without questioning my order McCartha swiftly walked over to a small window located in the far east corner of the room — gliding as she did so — and approached a tiny, brown spider that was spinning its web against the side of the window frame. It crawled carefully along the unfinished edges, making new pathways while it did so, and as the spider was descending down on its long string of silk-like thread, McCartha reached her index finger out and caught it before it could reach its destination. The spider began to scurry frantically along the top of her fingertip, not knowing what to make the unfamiliar, cold surface it had landed on.

Then all of a sudden something strange happen, and the spider stopped moving altogether. It was as if someone had pushed the stop button on it, and the spider was frozen in place like a sculpture from a wax museum. But when I took a closer look, I could see the spider's legs twitching and turning as it tried to resist whatever force was holding it back. McCartha was watching the spider just as intently as I was, and I saw as her pupils dilated at the same time the spider began writhing violently, until it finally shriveled and lay there unmoving.

I utterly was speechless.

"Its a sad thing to live with sometimes: the power to save lives and destroy them." McCartha spoke quietly. "I feel everything their body and command them to work the way I want them to. It's can be a bit unpleasant at first, considering the fact that most of my energy gets drained in the process, but this gift allows me to do things most humans can't. For example, I can cure a young girl from dying of cancer, or help a blind man see again. Maybe even prevent a sickness or disease from happening. The possibilities are endless."

"Wow." I breathed, slowly coming back from my stupor. My mind was still trying to get back in touch with reality. "It's such a shame you can't be a doctor though." I said, remembering that not all vampires had a strong blood tolerance like my grandfather.

"I really don't think that would have stopped me. I've been through enough to forget about the pain that comes with bloodlust. The problem is that my age doesn't accommodate to that type of profession whether I have a fake ID or not. So I decided to become a social worker instead, while sneaking in a few 'miracles' every now and then." McCartha explained, and then smiled a little. " I guess you can call me a miracle worker instead."

I couldn't help but feel sorry for McCartha. With my family it was so easy to blend in with the human world since Carlisle was such a successful doctor and my uncles were young enough to pass off as his sons. But McCartha? Although she was very mature, she didn't look old enough to pass off as an adult. I guessed that she was probably nineteen or twenty, but no more or less. And she didn't have anyone to live with anymore either.

That's when a small realization dawned on me.

"Then, is that how you knew what I was? That I'm...different." I whispered, nervous for her reply.

"Not necessarily." McCartha confessed, studying my expression closely. "If I didn't know any better I would have thought you were a newborn vampire. But you look human, act human, even smell human. All except for the eyes..." McCartha trailed off mindfully, and then a sudden spark of curiosity flashed through her eyes. "Do you mind if I try something?"

I hesitated for a moment, remembering the way the spider had squirmed under her gaze and the way she had healed the ghastly bruise on my skin, then nodded in full confidence and trust. McCartha wouldn't hurt me.

Being very careful and deliberate in her movements, McCartha walked closer to me and gently placed one of her pale hands on top of my chest while the other went on my forehead. I vaguely remembered this same situation with my father a few months ago, when I had touched his face for the first time, but unlike him McCartha didn't scare me. She didn't glower or grimace like in irritable dog the way he did, and instead of hostile her stance was cool and relaxed. I felt the coldness of her body leach into mine as her skin took heat from it, and I did my best to suppress a shiver. Her eyes unfocused her again, clouding her from the world of reality while I stared in awe.

"I can feel it." She whispered, still enraptured in her trance. "It's there, in the center of your heart, but it's not...doing anything. It's supposed to be in your bloodstream, though it's in some weird state of dormancy. It's taking some of your blood, not much of it, but some. Which is causing your eyes to turn red."

McCartha blinked rapidly, focusing her golden eyes back into the world in front of her, and looked at me seriously with a hard expression on her face. This was bad, very bad.

"It's taking your blood Renesmee, and I can't stop it or destroy it."

"My what?" I breathed, feeling as the suspense choked around my neck like a noose.

"Your venom." She replied gravely.

It was as if a streak of lightning had shot through me, and I was still suffering in the aftermath of its tremors. So my father was right: I was a bloodthirsty beast and there was nothing I could do about it. How could I have been so...so... stupid? I should have just stayed in my cage of a home and rotted in there instead of putting others in harm's way._ 'The humans are safe as long as she stays here,'_ Uncle Jasper had said. This time I really did shiver.

"Is it time to ask questions?" I asked warily.

"I'm afraid it is." McCartha said, and then pulled up a chair next to the small table positioned by the window. She sat on one end and motioned me to sit on the other.

Taking a deep breath of air, I sat down on the chair in front of me and began talking.

Minutes passed by into hours, and in that duration of time I told her everything. My father, the nightmares, the fight, how I escaped; everything. It was slightly overwhelming because I had never been so open to my feelings with anyone before. Maybe I was more comfortable with her since I didn't really know her, or maybe it was just McCartha. But regardless, I didn't dare move my eyes away from my interconnected fingers in fear of her reaction. Would she be disgusted that she had been taking care of some mutant vampire and make me leave? I didn't think I wanted to know.

"And so here I am," I concluded, "miles away from my family in Alaska."

I sat there anxiously waiting for her reply while twiddling my thumbs on top of the table, but all I heard was silence. She hadn't spoken a word throughout the agonizing story of my childhood, and to be honest I didn't think I even heard her breathe. I knew she was upset, and could feel the negativity radiating from her in waves. My nerves were screaming at me to say something, to look up and finally get it over with, but I was absolutely paralyzed with fear and paranoia.

_"Look up!"_ My subconscious yelled. _"Look up!"_

Hesitantly, I lifted my gaze from off the table and with one look instantly regretted for even opening my mouth.

McCartha had her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the table with her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She used her thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of her nose, and her eyebrows were pulled together into a look of unbearable pain. Agony was written all over her angelic face and after watching closely I realized her lips were moving so fast that I couldn't hear what they were saying. McCartha shook her head back and forth between her hands, trying to push away some disturbing memory from her mind.

What had I done?

"I'm sorry." I apologized pathetically, my voice no lower than a whisper. "If you want I'll leave without saying a word and go elsewhere. I'm sure that there are many other forests around here that I can easily reach. I didn't mean to upset you."

I looked back down at my hands in shame and dejection, seeing the invisible scars that circled my dainty wrists, and felt the same hollow emptiness ache in the center of my chest as it did when my uncles and grandparents left, completely unaware that it would the last time they'd ever see me. Now here I was again, trying to run away from trouble even though the trouble was me.

That's when I felt a cold, smooth finger curl under my chin and force me to look up from the ghastly scars with irresistible force. Even though I refused to look at her in the eye, I could tell that McCartha's expression was very hard and stern, not the kind of appearance that scared me, but still made the hairs on the back of my neck rise in alarm. She almost looked angry.

"Renesmee Cullen," McCartha said, her voice thick with emotion. "Do you think I am upset because of who you are?"

My tyrannical train of thought halted abruptly as my bewildered gaze met hers.

"Aren't you? I mean, I just assumed…" I trailed off, too startled and confused form a coherent response.

"Renesmee I meant when I said that I didn't mean you any harm, and I'd be going back on my word if I sent you away into some uncharted, god forsaken forest all alone."

I shook my head disbelievingly, and an irrational anger started to grow inside the pit of my stomach like the sparks of a wildfire. "You're too kind." I said in accusation. "I should be trying to get off on my own and not have to take advantage of people anymore just so that I can live peacefully!"

"Advantage?" McCarhta asked, raising a speculative eyebrow. "Exactly who's advantage have you taken which is making you feel so guilty for having a peaceful childhood?"

I tried to turn my head away, but it only moved a fraction of an inch since my chin was trapped between the firm grip of her fingers.

"Your grandparents?"

My throat constricted painfully at the thought of Carlisle and Esme weeping and crying at the loss of their only granddaughter.

"Your uncles?"

My breathing became labored more and more at each passing second, and I desperately begged for this unbearable torture to stop.

"Your aunts?"

The wooden table top I was looking at started to get blurry as the sadness and regret overflowed my emotions until it was seeping into eyes.

"Your father?"

The traitorous tears started to fall down my cheeks without restraint, and I bit on my tongue to keep the heart wrenching cry from breaking through the thin barrier of my lips.

"Your mother?"

Finally, I gave up and started weeping as hard as I could. Unable to hold back the pain of the truth.

"It was my fault." I sobbed, closing my eyes together so that I didn't have to see the word that was no longer mine. The world that could have been. "It was all my fault and I couldn't do anything about it. They all suffered in this together just for one person."

McCarhta wrapped her strong, protective arms around my small frame and brought me closer to her chest until I was crying on her shoulder like an infant. She gently rubbed my frail back with gentle pats, shushing me as she did so, and spoke soft words of encouragement.

"Renesmee, I know you have been told many things. Things that no child should hear from the mouths of the people they love so much. After all, what is a child's biggest aspiration other than to make their family happy?" She said, whispering into my ear. My crying subsided a little, though it didn't stop completely.

"But no matter what we cannot go to back the past and change things as they were. You cannot go back and save your mother, and I cannot go back and save Alexander no matter how much I wish. If we could change the way time and destiny work, then balance would cease to exist on this strange earth of ours. And I am not saying this as a human, but as an immortal. A widowed, slaved immortal who has no choice but to walk the long path of eternity alone until someone or something relieves me of this burden." McCartha said, her voice cloaked with sadness. She pulled me away from her shoulder so that I could see her face, and I was surprised that it looked so peaceful.

"Though let me tell you something immortality has taught me about life. Something that your father cannot understand because he refuses to believe so." She said a small smile tugging on the corner of her lips as I waited in anticipation.

"It's okay."

At first I didn't understand what she was talking about, and decided that the years of loneliness must have driven McCartha insane the same way it did with the others. So it was _okay_ that my father resented me for being born? That my family was torn apart because of an unforgivable mistake I made? That was _okay_?

But then the true meaning of McCartha's words sunk into the deep subconscious of my brain, and I found myself revisiting the past eight years of my live as a Cullen like they were scenes on a fuzzy projection screen. As long as I could remember perfection had ruled every aspect of my childhood; perfect speech, perfect clothing, perfect mind. And no matter how hard I tried I could never be perfect enough for my father. I wanted us to be part of the façade and do things that normal fathers and daughters do. But when the truth was exposed, I realized that my fantasy would never come true because my father never loved me. He would rather die than love me. And even though my life wasn't perfect anymore...it wasn't miserable either. The pain would go away as months pass by into years, taking memories of the small, prefect girl with it , and I would finally accept what was. That despite of being perfect, life was okay. I was okay.

Those words. Those two pointless yet simple words were enough to have me laughing and crying at the same time. I knew that McCartha must have been thinking that I'd lost my marbles, but honestly I didn't care. I finally felt free for the first time, and when I looked back at my wrists I noticed that the scars were gone. No matter how much McCartha denied it, she was truly a healer.

Without giving a second thought, I extended my arms out to her and reached in for another hug. McCartha gladly took it and I was once again surrounded by her comfort like a protective blanket around a child. It almost felt like I was hugging a female version of Jesus.

"So, a vampire and human hybrid." She inquired playfully, trying to lighten the mood. "No wonder I thought you seemed too smart for your age."

I smiled against her collarbone. "Smart enough to escape from a coven of vampires."

She laughed heavenly, her voice echoing around the room. "Now that I can't argue."

I don't know how long we sat there hugging and confiding in each other, but after a while McCartha pulled away from me and abruptly stood up onto her feet in one quick motion.

"Come on," she breathed, "lets go take a walk outside. I think we both need the fresh air."

I thought about her offer for a moment, remembering the time I had foolishly asked my father if I could join him on one of his walks, and mentally cringed as his ungenerous reply came back to me ears.

_'You won't be able to keep up'_.

"I won't be able to keep up." I replied, repeating his words.

McCartha smiled at me amusedly, cocking her head to the side. "I said walk Renesmee, not run." She teased, but then her smile suddenly disappeared. "That is, unless you'd rather stay here."

I looked outside her window for a moment, gazing at her backyard—if you could call it a backyard—and observed the line of trees that surrounded her house carrying beautiful, elegant designs carved on their trunks with various symbols and representation. I imagined walking under their thick cover of branches and leaves with the sun glistened harmlessly over the canopy as it slowly set behind the mountains.

"No," I said enthusiastically, an unexpected surge of optimism coursing through my veins. "Let's go."

With a charismatic smile, McCartha motioned me to join her so that we headed out the back door and into the forest.

I had never noticed how well McCartha maintained her back lawn. Despite of being a small patch of land, it was very neat and organized. In the corner a large willow tree hung lowly on its branches, the thin arms stretching as far as they could to the ground below, and its long curtain of leaves hid the massive trunk that sprouted from the ground.

As we walked more and more into the forest, I watched how the light from the canopy above illuminated the path in front of us with a greenish glow. The day had become sunny, but none of it reached the ground towards McCartha and I.

"So," I said, trying to make small talk,"how long have you been living here?"

"Hmm…" She said while squinted her eyes in concentration. "We came here around forty-seven, so...sixty-six years?"

I gaped in astonishment. "You've been living in this same forest for sixty-six years?"

She smiled kindly at me. "I'll admit it does seem a bit strange, but yes I have lived here for quite some time now."

"But why?" I asked rudely.

McCartha seemed a little wary to answer my question, pursing her lips as she thought of what to say, and responded after a brief pause.

"After I was changed," she said slowly,"I needed some stability in my life. Alexander and I both did. So when we came to Washington, this forest seemed perfect. Neither of us wanted to leave and after some deliberation we took a chance and finally decided to make this place our permanent home; a place we could stay as long as we wanted. And its been the same ever since."

"Wow." I breathed. "How do you manage then? I mean, don't humans get suspicious after seeing you all the time?"

"Not really. I either go to work in another city or somewhere out of state. And if I need to, I'll keep quiet for a while and then make my appearance once everyone forgets about me. Simple as that."

I wondered for a minute how it would feel like to call a place home. My family never stayed in one mansion for too long so that I could become attached, and in my point of view every place we move to looked the same.

"You said that you came here sixty-eight years ago." I said, a new thought occurring to me. "Then...how old are you McCartha?"

Her golden irises burned with hidden emotion and she looked at me square in the eye before responding. "Eighty-eight years old"

My eyes widened in shock, and I became utterly speechless as a thousand emotions raged in my head.

"You seem to have questions."

"I don't know where to start." I admitted, still recovering from the aftershock of my mental epiphany.

"How about we start from the beginning." She suggested, gently placing a hand on my shoulder.

I nodded eagerly and listened.

McCartha sucked in a deep breath of air, preparing herself, and then started.

"I was born in 1925 in the city of Berlin, Germany." She said. "My father, Hanz, ran a bookstore while my mother, Maria, made homeopathic medicines that she sold to our neighbours or any other people who were willing to buy."

McCartha stared at the greenlit forest for a long moment, her eyes never leaving the invisible path she followed, and I wondered where her thoughts had taken her.

"Throughout my life I had always believed that my greatest fault was not being born a man. My father needed a son in the family, someone with a strong mind to take care of his business, but instead received a daughter. Though nonetheless, he loved me for who I was and I loved him for giving me a chance to prove myself, and soon I became my father's most prized and beloved possession."

She smiled herself as she spoke, and I had to look away from her happiness to contain my envy.

"My mother, on the other hand, seemed to disapprove my interference in the family business, thinking it was very 'unfeminine' of me to be around so many books, but honestly I didn't care. I loved the smell of them, the feel of then, the sensation of waking up every morning and realizing that I had yet again fallen asleep reading. It was my life." McCartha breathed, a sad look crossing her face. She paused again and I saw as her eyes darkened visibly.

"But alas, like all good things, this life of mine was soon coming to an end. My world crumbled and weakened day by day as the Nazi party of Germany grew stronger. And I watched, painfully watched as they turned this story of mine into a living nightmare."

That last statement threw me off a bit. Why would McCartha have to suffer in Nazi Germany? She was a part of the master race, the Aryan race; she should have been proud and happy that she was a German.

"I don't understand," I said, speaking my confusion out loud. " Weren't all Germans happy to serve under the Nazi party."

McCartha gazed at me dismally. "The center of Nazi Germany was no place for a small family of Jews Rensmee."

With a sudden jolt of horror, I finally realized the meaning behind her cryptic words and my gaze froze on the inside of her beautiful, porcelain arm. The skin there seemed a lot more smooth and delicate compared to the rest of her body, but the evil mark on it destroyed it's charm and innocence. There were six little numbers permanently etched on the marble surface of her arm, standing out dark and inky compared to the white skin around it.

"That mark..." I whispered shakily. "That means you're..."

McCartha nodded solemnly, her voice as cold as ice.

"Prisoner 172819 of Auschwitz-Birkenau."

I gasped as she confirmed my horrible suspicion, and couldn't help but feel ashamed of myself. Here I was complaining about my life being a prison, when McCarhta had spent her life in a prison. And she was only a human back then.

"When did you get the tattoo?" I asked, inwardly surprised that my voice was this calm.

"Fours years after they burned down my father's book store," McCartha spoke vacantly. "I remember walking hand and hand through those iron gates with my mother and three year old sister. Her name was Sylvia. We had her when my family and I escaped to Poland, and she was possibly the best welcome home present anyone could have ever given me. My mother and father had to work in a factory to get their daily income, so it was my job to play the mother and take care of her at home. Sylvia never really saw me as a sister. She would call me_ 'matka'_ which meant mother in Polish, and my mother thought it was a nickname for McCartha." She said, laughing meekly. It wasn't a happy laugh.

"So there we were, walking through the iron gates and feeling terrified of what would happen next. My father had been separated from us when we were loaded into the jeeps, and I was very nervous at the thought of losing anyone else. A man in a doctor's suit was directing people left and right, and before I knew it I was being separated from my mother who all of a sudden pulled by the SS guards to the left. We were screaming and pushing away the guards to get to one another, all the while Sylvia crying _'mataka, matka'_ to me as she struggled in my mother's arms, until finally I heard a loud thwack as a baton hit my leg, causing me to fall on the ground."

We both remained silent, imagining the heartbreaking scene play out in our own minds as mother and daughter were separated from each other, and I was so glad that I was not separated from my mother in this way. It would have killed me.

"When I looked up, I saw a man with blonde hair and pale skin glaring down at me. His face was hard and cruel, and his eyes were as dark as onyx. The Nazi's scared me sometimes, but it was nothing compared to the way this man scared me. And I knew, from that moment I knew that this beautiful and evil man would never let me leave Auschwitz alive. He would be the one to end my story, which would eventually be buried in the ground along with me."

"That was Alexander?" I asked, my throat dry with tension.

"Yes," she whispered, her face twisting with melancholy, "that was Alexander."

My mind flooded with a million hows and whys, but I decided that it was better for her to keep going instead of being bombarded with a million questions.

"Go on." I said patiently, encouraging her not to stop.

McCartha studied my expression closely, her eyes darting over every surface of my skin to see if there was any trace of fear or horror written on it, but I gave nothing away. Eventually she gave up and looked back at the forest in front of her.

"I never heard from my mother or sister again. It was only a while later that I realized that going to the left ment going to the gas chambers, and my life was never the same again." McCartha said, her voice filled with ancient sadness. "Apparently I was lucky in my first year there. The SS had assigned me to work in a warehouse called Canada, and I was allowed grow my hair out. But still, there were far more terrifying dangers in there then out in the fields where people starved."

"What kind of dangers?" I asked curiously.

McCartha's eyes flashed down at me, so quickly that I thought I'd just imagined it, but then her voice came out sharp and prominent.

"Let's just say there are some punishments given to women that are far more worse than death itself."

"Oh." I said lamely, not understanding what she meant, but didn't interrogate further because of the sternness of her tone.

McCartha smiled at me apologetically and patted me on the shoulder. "You'll know what I mean when you're older." She said and went on with her story.

"As I worked in Canada, I still kept tabs on the strange, blonde hair man that I met when I came here. He had a brother named Lucas who ran a bad reputation around the camp with most of the prisoners, but even though they had the same pale skin and dark eyes, Lucas's hair was brown instead of blond and he was much more violent. They rarely made their appearance around the camp, and whenever they did it was always night. But never once did I hear any complaints about the blonde haired man named Alexander. Instead, I found him much more harmless than anyone else in the camp." She said, and I could hear the admiration seeping into her voice as she talked about her husband.

"But those two were nothing compared to the cruelty of the other guards. Especially Maria Mandel, Irma Grese, and of course the infamous Dr. Joseph Mengele." McCartha said, her tone bitterly sarcastic. "One glance. One glance at Maria Mandel in the eye was all it took for me to be shaved of my hair and reassigned to work the fields. The pain and torture she put me through was terrible, until one day I gave up and made a run towards the electric fences to be finally reunited with my mother and sister forever."

I heard my breath catch audibly within my throat, and McCartha looked at me reassuringly while rubbing my back to inform me that her story was not over yet.

"Before my fingertips could touch the wire surface, something very hard and cold rammed against me, and I didn't know what it was until I felt a pair of strong, muscular arms coil around my waist and pull me towards a large bodied frame I knew all too well. Alexander turned me around in his inescapable grip, trying not to be too rough with his movements, so that I was looking at his angry face."

" 'Are you crazy?!' He asked, thoroughly outraged. 'Have you completely lost your mind?!' "

" 'Yes I am crazy!' I shrieked back in frustration, punching and shoving him as hard as I could. 'I am crazy that I live in a world where humans are so set on killing each other. A world where I am being punished to death just because I was born!' I yelled. I knew that he would beat me for what I had said, but I didn't care. I welcomed the pain.

"That's when I noticed that something about Alexander seemed very odd, and gasped in terror when I saw that his skin was shining like diamonds and his eyes were red. It was all too much for me to take in, and the last thing I remembered was fainting in his arms."

I was too anxious to speak.

"When I woke up again, I was in my barrack sleeping comfortably on a large blanket that wasn't mine. At first I thought I must be going insane, but had no explanation as to who had brought me here and why. If the point of this concentration camp was to kill me, why was this man trying so hard to let me live?" McCartha said, and I could tell that she still hadn't found the answer to her question even today.

"Though the encounter that I had with Alexander was soon forgotten the day Dr. Mengele came in to make selections of who would stay and who would go." McCartha spoke darkly. "Maria Mandel and Irma Grese were with him, and when he reached my number I couldn't help but squirm in unease at the sight of all three of them standing together in front of me. I may have been able to handle one of them in the past, but I was no match for all three."

" 'Pass,' he mumbled under his breath while writing on his clipboard. But Irma Grese hated me as much as she hated all the other female prisoners, and didn't like competition. Jewish or not."

" 'If I may,' she said. 'I think it would be wise for us not to let this one go. I hear she had been smuggling food from Canada that we give to our hungry Aryan soldiers on the front lines, and giving them to the rest of the Jewish rats to feed on.' "

" 'And she's getting weak too,' Maria Mandel growled, then swinged at her baton until I was writhing on the ground in pain."

" 'Hmm...' Mengele trailed off, a cunning edge in his voice. 'Then I think we should send her to our _special resources_ instead.' And with that, continued with his examination with the other prisoners."

I didn't know what was worse; knowing that McCartha had been through so much pain in her human life or that she was going to die at the end of this. Fear trickled through my veins with each loud thump of my heart when I realized that all the other holocaust stories I heard were from people who had survived the concentration camps. But this was the story of someone who had died there.

"I won't go on any further." McCartha whispered, placing a gentle arm around my shoulder. She had probably seen the panic settle in my face.

"What happen after?" I asked, not wanting to say the word gas chamber out loud. It almost felt blasphemous.

"Afterwards I was introduced to my new life." McCartha said nonchalantly. "I can't tell you how confused I was waking up in a strange room in a strange house I had never seen before. I imagined heaven would be with grassy fields and wildflowers instead of a log cabin located on top of a mountain. But, when I went to see my reflection in the mirror that was attached to the wall there, I was surprised to see a young woman who looked like me but wasn't me. My hair had grown back and my eyes were red just like Alexander's. I had seen my reflection in Auschwitz before, and expected it to look like a seventy year old corpse, but instead I looked nineteen and healthy. I explored around the house in search of answers, and soon discovered that I was still alive after seeing a Nazi uniform with the name tag Alexander J. Threftwood written on it."

McCartha stopped walking all of a sudden, and when I looked in front of us we stood face to face with a rocky mountainside.

"Climb on my back," she instructed while leaning down. I crawled up her back until I held her granite neck in a choke hold, and wrapped my legs around her skinny waist like a baby koala. She proceeded to climb up the rugged edge, going slow and steady for my sake.

"So then I took the dagger that was in the coat pocket of his uniform and started hunting for him. I didn't know why he brought me here, but suspected that it was for something evil. I found him looking out of his bedroom window with his back turned to me, and as I approached he started speaking."

" 'Do you think it is so easy to kill?'Alexander whispered, his voice distant and far away. 'To take human life without hesitation. Do you really think it comes without cost?' "

"Before I could say anything, Alexander stood in front of me with the dagger against his chest while he held my wrist to keep it from moving."

" 'Do it.' He challenged, ignoring my struggles to get the dagger away from him. 'Finish what you started McCartha, do it!' Then without faltering his movements plunged the dagger in his heart. I screamed and closed my eyes in horror, but heard no sound of pain from him. When I opened my eyes Alexander was still there, untouched and unharmed, but the dagger was destroyed."

" 'I am sorry about this McCartha.' He apologized, touching the side of my face. 'Truly sorry.' "

The sun was at its peak as we climbed up the mountain, but the light didn't touch us since we were on the other side of it. I rested my chin on her shoulder as we continued up the slope.

" It didn't take me long to understand what we were, but when I did my vengeance came with a bitter edge to it. First he took my family away, now he punishes me with immortality? Sometimes I would try to run away from him, but wouldn't know what to do or where to go and come back. I refused to hunt humans for my own pleasure, so Alexander hunted for me instead and had to cajole me to get anywhere near my so called meal." McCartha chuckled.

" Months passed by into years, and in that duration of time I was happy that a small part of my human life had come back to me in the form of a gift. I used to help wounded or injured prisoners in Auschwitz with the knowledge I had about homeopathy and medicine, and would give them whatever food I could sneak from Canada. My gift was almost like a form of rehabilitation for me, and through it I discovered a potential diet of animal blood Alexander and I tried out. Apparently he was sick of hunting humans almost as much as I was." McCartha mumbled, and I wondered where her thoughts had taken her.

" It surprised me how lost Alexander truly was despite of seeming so brave and intrepid. Lucas had always controlled his life as long as he could remember, and when he defied his anti- semitic beliefs my changing me, I couldn't help but admire him for his courage. Deep down I knew I couldn't be more involved in him than I already was, and tried to ignore whatever relationship we had with one another that exceeded the 'good friend' zone." She said, and I could almost hear the smile stretching across her lips.

"But love is love, and after two years I officially became Mrs. McCartha Threftwood. The holocaust seemed like nothing more than a distant memory from the past, and I didn't want anything other than the life I already had.

" So one day as Alexander and I were hunting in the woods, we hear a deep bass growling echo through the trees."

" 'Jewish swine.' It snarled, and before I knew it I was being hurled into the ground by none other than Lucas himself. Alexander was quick to pull him off of me and made it very clear that if I was harmed then he would kill him. Even though Lucas wasn't as strong as Alexander, he was smart, and tried to make peace with us through amends. Alexander accepted of course, but I had a bad feeling about him that I couldn't quite explain."

McCartha's voice clouded with regret and longing, and I had an idea who the villain of this story might be.

" Alexander and Lucas spent most of their time together, going on hunting trips or meeting each other during the day, so kept my suspicions to myself. He did know Lucas better than me, so who was I to judge? Then one night as I sat waiting for Alexander to come home from his hunting trip, it seemed to be taking him longer than I expected. I called Lucas's house several times, but it always went into voice mail. And when three hours passed by into five, I knew that something had gone horribly wrong." McCartha said. She was quiet for a long moment and I heard her take a shaky breath of air through her lungs.

"When I reach Lucas's house," she whispered, "what he had done to Alexander was...inhumane. Possibly the worst form of death anyone can give to a person. He was waiting for me as well so that I could join Alexander in the death sentence he had carried out."

" 'You kept me waiting 172819.' He smirked, regarding me as my prison name. 'I'm surprised that Auschwitz didn't teach you anything about Aryans. Any last words?' "

" 'Not today.' I growled, and lunged at him with with all the force I could."

We had reached the ridge of the mountain by now, and McCartha stopped there to carefully set me down on my feet. There was grassy hillside between the two mountain paths, and we slowly started walking in the direction of a bright clearing ahead.

"You won." I said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I won." She replied. "But lost so much more in return. Everything in my world turned black: trees, flowers, the sun. I lied on my bed for years, not wanting to work or hunt. I only wanted to crawl into Alexander's grave and lie next to him for the rest of eternity. So that I could be in a place that made sense."

"But how did you do it?" I asked, my eyebrows knitting together in frustration. "How did you get over him?"

McCartha smiled knowingly to herself, and I saw something twinkle behind the harmony within her golden irises.

"As I was going through some of Alexander's belongings I noticed a certain page slip out of from one of his books. It looked like some sort of official document, and when I examined it further I realized that it was his will. The page was entirely blank except for one word that was addressed only to me. And that one word was enough to set me free forever."

"What was it?" I asked, the anticipation killing me by the second.

McCartha's smile stretched into a wide, dazzling grin as we approached the clearing ahead.

"Live." She said simply, and we walked into the welcoming brightness of the sunlight.

It was possibly the most beautiful meadow I had ever seen. There were wildflowers growing in every direction, swaying gracefully with the motion of the wind, and the grass was an alluring shade of jade. As I walked closer, I noticed that the meadow overlooked the stunning view from the mountainside, and far away I could see the lake shimmering proudly beneath the sun's glare. It was as if I had the entire world in the palm of my hand, and when I looked up at McCartha I saw that she was shimmering too. The tiny diamonds that embodied her skin glowed brightly until the dark numbers of her arm were nowhere to be seen.

As McCartha and I gazed at each other I saw a certain question in her eyes, a question that she was too frightened to ask. It was something that would have been considered selfish from anyone elses' perspective, but to me was much more. McCartha had lived through too much too long, and I could see the loneliness she had been though all these years finally seep out as she tried to fulfill the last wish of her husband. For her to live a happy life without looking back at the horrible past.

Just like me.

I reached my tiny hand out to hold her's as tightly as I could. McCartha's eyes widened in surprise of my decision, and then grew incredibly soft and warm like the dews of honey in a hot summer's day. She wrapped her fingers around my hand just as tightly as I did.

"Welcome home Renesmee." She whispered, and we continued to gaze at the sunset as I knew we would for the rest of our days.

**~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~**

The vision ended slowly, and I looked down at our interconnected hands to see that they were the same as when they were all those years ago. Except mine was bigger and forever seventeen.

"Nothing has changed." I said, returning my eyes to McCartha. She looked like she would crying if possible.

"Yes." She agreed, nodding her head. "Nothing has changed."

"Well," I reasoned, smirking mischievously, "except for Gina of course."

"Hey I heard that Nessie!" She hollered from downstairs.

"You were supposed to leatherback!"

McCartha sighed in frustration, smiling as she did so, and we continued our daily routines as we always did. Thirty years later.


	7. Chapter 7- The Blue Eyed Stallion

**Music- Made For You: One Republic.**

**Chapter 7- The Blue Eyed Stallion.**

"Breathe Carlie." McCartha instructed while pushing her cold hands against the small of my back.

I inhaled sharply through my nose, taking in the thick, heavy scent of the books around me, and tried to ignore the violent inferno raging in the center of my throat. I could feel the venom assault my willpower as it struggled to take over my bloodstream, but McCartha was firm and steady in her movements so that it didn't go that far and drive me to the brink of insanity.

"Focus on where your core is. Use it to control the venom."

"I'm trying." I hissed through my gritted teeth. The inferno turned into an all out wildfire as I spoke, and I resisted the urge to grind my fingernails against the wooden floor beneath me where I sat on my knees.

Probably the hardest thing about having venom in a human body was trying to maintain a balance between the two. On one side there was my blood; so weak yet so precious to my humanity, and on the other was my venom; the most painful yet crucial part for my survival. Both relied on each other in an inextricable way, but time after time the venom would try to take over my body in need of the blood it craved, and I had to find a way to control it. Just enough so that it didn't get to my eyes. Anything but my eyes.

Sucking in another deep breath of air, I concentrated on the core of my body, feeling the tight bundle of energy beat in rhythm with my heart, and directed every ounce of my attention into it so that I could no longer hear or feel anything around me. It was as if I was in the warm depths of the lake again, surrounded by a delicate cocoon of peace and harmony, and I was almost tempted to open my eyes to see if the sun was there.

Slowly, I felt the tiny core in the center of my chest loosen ever so slightly, until it grew and grew into a dissipating mass of heat. The energy spread throughout my body like a massive torrent, decimating the venomous wildfire in its path and leaving serenity in its wake. I exhaled again, relishing the sensation of breathing without pain as the beads of sweat on my forehead cooled down.

"Better?" McCartha asked when she felt the venom calm down.

"Hardly." I scoffed in distaste. "It doesn't even feel like I've improved much since last time."

McCartha carefully helped me up to my feet, making sure that I didn't lose balance in the process, then held me a shoulder length apart so that she could look at me properly. Her face glowed with pride as one hand reached up to touch me, and I watched her lips curl up into an appraising smile.

"But you have." McCartha reminded me, staring into the depths of my— not red — yet chocolate brown eyes.

You see it all started the year I turned seventeen. Apparently my venom, which in an odd dormancy stage up to that time, finally became active because of some command given off by my genes. McCartha explained it as a form of vampire puberty, and hypothesized that the year my venom became active was probably correlated to the year my father was turned into a vampire. I stopped ageing since then, but could hear better, see better, and even fight better than I could before. Unfortunately my venom wasn't strong enough to let me run fast as them, though I did have a very good stamina and was slightly faster than a normal human. You could force me to run five miles against an entire football team and I would still win without ever breaking a sweat. So after a few years of doing these therapy sessions with McCarhta, we discovered that my core not only hindered my vampire side, but it facilitated my human side as well. Causing my eyes to turn a light shade of brown.

"Your mother would be proud." McCarhta praised, breaking my reverie. She knew how much my humanity meant to me.

"I know." I said, smiling at her appreciatively. She removed her hand from my face, and I glanced down at my wristwatch to see how much time had passed.

My eyebrows rose quickly in alarm. "An hour till school starts." I warned.

"Better get going then." McCarhta said, and walked me out of her study. I decided that breakfast wasn't worth the time and grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen instead. Just as I had managed to get out the front door, I heard a stern voice holler from the window.

"And don't forget to eat your lunch! I'll know if you do!"

I laughed at her clecheé, maternal comment and continued along the rugged, dirt path towards our spacey garage. Gina had probably headed out to college by now, claiming that she had better things to do than repeat high school over and over again, and wouldn't be back until the end of the day. Even though Seattle Tech was quite a ways away from here, Gina was too homesick to actually reside in one of their dorms. I, on the other hand, had not gone to college yet since this was my first time around high school. Now you would think that a thirty-eight year old woman like me would at least have the decency to finish high school, but due to the delicate circumstances of my thirst around humans, I wanted to be sure that they were safe before putting my needs ahead of them.

So there I was, walking through the dense forest of trees and admiring the scenery, when all of a sudden a loud, high pitched screech echoed from above, its voice bouncing throughout the woods in a cry of domination, until I felt a pair of sharp talons perch on the fleshy part of my shoulder. I hissed in pain, feeling the monster's claws break through my skin, but didn't shake it off since the injury healed just as soon as it had been made. I glowered at the massive eagle roosting on my shoulder, its wings flapping crazily in an attempt to maintain balance on the uneven surface it had landed on.

"No Aaron." I reprimanded, pulling him onto my arm. I inspected my navy blue uniform to see how much damage had been done, and frowned when I saw a tiny blood stain left on the white shirt I wore underneath.

Aaron stared at me expectantly, his big, yellow eyes boring with anticipation, and it wasn't hard to guess that he wanted me to hunt for him. Again.

"You need to learn how to hunt yourself." I explained, touching his forehead with my index finger so he could understand though the visuals I gave him. Aaron stopped flapping his wings as he watched how to track a vole down, and then flew off hastily in search of his own. Disappearing into the thick clouds of the sky.

I had gotten Aaron two years ago when he was an abandoned fledgling alone in his mother's nest. There was no sign of her for days, so I assumed that she must have died trying to get food for her offspring. Normally animals would run away from vampires, their instincts classifying them as predators, but since I was a bit of both, animals neither saw me as a friend or foe. My ability for projecting memories and images into the mind of others came in handy with Aaron. I taught him another way of life apart from 'eat or be eaten,' and he responded quickly to this new, much more civilized world he discovered. As strange as it sounds, Aaron was almost like my own child.

When I finally reached the garage, I couldn't help but frown at the mess Gina had left behind. There was metal everywhere: nuts, bolts, screwdriver pieces, hammers. But what disturbed me the most was the big hunk of scrap metal she had thrown right next to my motorcycle. It was a frame for a car, the hood and trunk easily identifiable, and attached to it was a yellow sticky note clearly addressed to me in big, black letters written in sharpie.

**Carlie,**  
**Touch the car and I'll kill you.**  
**Love Gina.**

I chuckled at her comment. So much for sisterly love. But didn't defy her threat since I knew she would get me back in the fighting lessons we had every day. I flinched at the thought of her granite hard, muscular fist coming in contact with my delicate cheekbones. That girl knew how to throw a punch.

Carefully stepping my way through the various interchangeable parts, I grabbed the handles of my black Motomel and lead it out of the garage. It was a gift given by Gina after she had taught me how to successfully ride a motorcycle without falling, and from that day on I never rode in a car again. I knew that being surrounded in a tin box was much more safer and efficient, but I didn't get to feel what I was doing. I wanted the wind rush through my hair and see the forest whip past me in a blur. Even though I couldn't run as fast as normal vampires, I could at least ride as fast as them.

Slamming my foot down on the silver pedal, a loud rumbling noise gnarled through the engine as if it were a predator ready to attack, and I was off. Speeding through carved path of trees around me like a cheetah. Adrenaline coursed through my veins in excitement, and I twisted the throttle so that I'd move faster.

It didn't take me long to reach the main road from the woods, but when I did I made sure that I didn't go beyond the speed limit. Rules were rules and everyone was obliged to follow them. Even vampires. Other than that it was a long, peaceful thirty minute ride to the small yet warmhearted town of Mathis. The place had been alive since the late eighteen hundreds, and came in close second to Forks as the town with hardly any sunlight. It was almost always freezing, but wasn't a problem for the families who had lived there for generations.

Mathis was a ditsy little town, too insignificant to be identified on any map of Washington, though left a smile on the faces passer by's. Everything there was grouped together, shops, theaters, hospitals, restaurants. And the largest building that stood out from the rest was the one and only Mathis High School.

Although I loved Mathis High and its charismatic atmosphere, the only thing that irked me the most was its over the top dress code. All students had to wear the uniform assigned to them: no additional accessories or appliances. Girls were required to tie their hair back if it was longer than their shoulders, wear leggings underneath their knee-length skirt, and walk in closed-toed shoes. Boys were required to wear light blue ties, black polished shoes, and maintain minimal facial hair. If anyone broke those rules, then they would be reprimanded and receive two demerits. Most of the kids had already received ten at the end of the semester.

I parked my motorcycle in the farthest side of the upperclassmen section since I was a Junior that year, and before I could even get off, was suddenly bombarded by my best friend Valerie Vettle.

Now if you ever seen a playful little puppy just begging for attention, that was Valerie. Once the girl opened her mouth it was impossible to get it shut, and when it did she was either mad at you or heavily depressed. Valerie was a foot shorter than me, and had curly, caramel brown hair. Her amber eyes were magnified under the thick pair of open rimmed glasses she wore, and her tiny arms and legs bounced up and down while hugging my neck in a choke hold. I struggled to reach her level.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you soo much Carlie!" Valerie squealed. I had to pry her hands away from my neck because one; she smelled like a delicious mix of apple and oranges, and two; my lips were right next to her jugular vein which was pulsing very heavily due to her increased excitement.

"I'm assuming that there's good news." I said, trying to keep the tight smile etched on my face. Just a small taste…

_'Snap out of it!'_ My rational side commanded. I distracted myself by imagining Valerie as one of those small puppy dogs that easily fit into womens' purses.

"Duh." Valerie said, rolling her eyes. "I got an A on that history test last week, and its all thanks to your wonderful tutoring skills."

Now that my venom wasn't as riled up as before, I finally understood what she was talking about. The countless hours that I spent with her in the library trying to explain what the Bismarckian Alliance System was came back to me, and I was glad that all my effort didn't go to waste.

"That's great." I praised with an enthusiastic smile, and we headed inside as Valerie droned on and on about some boy she had noticed a couple of days ago.

"Oh, is he looking? Is he looking? Is he looking?" She asked when we passed by the locker bays. Valerie stared straight ahead with a nervous expression on her face, chewing on her bottom lip as it were a lifeline, and I glanced up at a group of boys with the infamous Matthew Crawford as their leader while he flirted with a blonde.

"He's looking alright." I said sarcastically, but then felt guilty when Valerie's face fell in disappointment after seeing that her so called beloved had fallen for another woman.

"Don't give up hope Val." I reassured, gently patting her shoulder. "Anyone who knows Matthew even the slightest bit can see that he's nothing but trouble."

Valerie shook her head in defeat, looking up at the fluorescent lights as if asking why, and then sighed exasperatedly.

"Yeah, whatever." She groaned. "See you fifth block." Then disappeared into the crowd of navy blue uniforms until I couldn't see her curls bouncing behind her back.

I walked to my locker in silence, feeling very sorry for Valerie's ordeal as a woman. Human girls were so prone to manipulation, wanting to give their heart out to any undeserving male they considered as 'the one', and then submitting to whatever demands he ordered. I never really understood that concept due to the fact that my biological purpose wasn't to bear children. Human puberty was the same for me as it was with other girls, except that I had never menstruated before. McCartha said it was because of the venom, and even though the concept of ovulating every month sounded painful, I still wished I had the ability to conceive a child.

_'It's okay.'_ I reminded myself, and started entering my locker combination into the dial.

"Carlie." A deep, reverent voice greeted, and my fingers froze on the little knob in bewilderment as a sharp, leathery scent flooded my nose, ridding me of any desire for blood. An odd warmth spread throughout the pit of my stomach, and I couldn't help but smile at my reaction. Even though this scent was familiar, it never failed to amaze me how desensitized I became every single time it made its appearance. This smell didn't make me feel ravenous for blood, but instead was like a breath of fresh air when you left a stuffy room. However, it was nothing compared to the man who owned it.

The blue eyed stallion.

**~Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ~**

It was my first day as a freshman at Mathis High School, and I stood in front of the three story building as if it were a castle. The tiny cracks on the walls looked archaic and obsolete, but had been coated over in a comforting shade of brown. Some students decided to come early that morning, and were leisurely making their way in and out of the building. My stomach gave apprehensive little flips as I grasped the cold handle of the door, and then swung it open to be greeted by a warm blast of heating air.

The inside of the school was a lot more wide and open than I expected. Every single time my shoes came in contact with the white linoleum floor, a sharp click would reverberate around the room mixed within the several noises of other students. They went about like a pair of frolicking rabbits, conversing in small social groups and giggling vehemently while I wondered how best to approach them.

I learned how to socialize with humans during the long, monotonous period of working at various coffee shops or any other strong scented place that distracted my inner monster, but wasn't prepared to face them as a student. The thought of being speculated and judged like some sort of horse about to be auctioned sounded too stressful and rude, though looking down at my confusing schedule and mixing it with three floors of endless classrooms was sure to guarantee several tardies at the end of the day, and I realized that I would have to ask someone for directions regardless of my shy tenacities. Fast.

My eyes scanned over the vast hallway as more and more kids entered the school, analyzing every distinct change in conversation and body language with my acute senses. Asking one of the big groups for help was probably not a good idea if I wanted to be ridiculed for being too bashful, so I decided that it would be safer for me to ask someone that was alone. Someone that didn't want to get involved in the subjective crowd like me, and prefered their own solitude. I gazed once more through the immense crowd of uniforms, trying to find such comrade who would assist me in the most nerve-racking moment of my life.

And that was when I saw him.

He sat far away from the army of students, lounging on one of the flat, steel benches against the wall, and had his back hunched over as he wrote something into a journal. Even though there was quite a distance between us, I could tell that he was big. Very big...and muscular. His shoulders were wide and heavy, slowly moving up and down like two towering mountains as he breathed. The uniform he wore had been rolled up to his elbows, and I could see the thick veins and tendons coiled around the strong ripples of muscle underneath like barbed wire. His pen was almost engulfed by his hand, looking so fragile and dainty like a marionette in the steel grip of a puppet master. Dancing and obeying to his command.

As I approached the intriguing boy, I noticed that he had a very prominent coloring. His skin was a light shade of tan, and glowed under the bright fluorescents like an afternoon sun. The hair on his head was crow black and messy because of being pulled back so much. His heavy jawline gave him a very severe and serious look, not resembling a normal high schooler at all, and I watched as he finally put the pen down to bringing his large hand behind his neck to massage the aching muscles there. Closing his eyes in the process.

Okay, now due to my insecure nature I'll admit that I prepared for some sort dislike or animosity. But what I wasn't prepared for was his eyes.

The moment his eyelids snapped open to face me, I gasped softly at what was lying underneath. They were blue. Electric blue. It was the kind of shade that stood out from the rest of his masculine features like a diamond underneath a pile of coal. A strong dominance colored them as he looked at me with inappropriate intensity, and through the bright rivulets I saw a fire dancing beneath. A robust, passionate fire that grew in fervor with every rise and fall of his broad shoulders. I could have sat there for ages and stared at them without getting bored, but I knew that he would not return the favor. His thick eyebrows pulled together in anxiety and conflict, heightening the raging emotion in his blue eyes, and I waited patiently for his response to my innocent question.

A response that never came.

"Er… nevermind." I mumbled, feeling very strange all of a sudden, and quickly turned my back to him to head the opposite direction. Almost running as his gaze followed me.

Luckily a few minutes after the extreme stare down I had with the blue eyed boy—no—_man_, I ran into a very bubbly girl named Valerie. The second she looked down at my schedule, Valerie literally grabbed my wrist and yanked me through the various stairs and hallways of the school until we reached our first hour american history class. She talked mostly about herself and the student body, explaining which people to avoid and which people she liked. But truly, all I wanted to know about was the odd person I met that morning. Whether he was nice or not, if he had a problem with people asking directions, and especially what his name was. I couldn't stand not knowing the name of such an intriguing character, so I thought of a nickname instead. Something that was strong and dominant like him, something that reminded me of his impenetrable eyes, something like...stallion. The blue eyed stallion.

I stuck with that name, and throughout the day couldn't stop thinking about him. The muscles deep within my stomach clenched and quivered with tension as I remembered that flame within his eyes. How hungry and carnal it burned. And the overwhelming magnitude of these feelings grew more and more up to the point where I had to excuse myself from chemistry to wash my face with cold water, trying to forget about the blue irises which bored into mine. What was happening to me?

When the final bell rung at the end of the day, I exhaled an unnecessary breath of air in relief to know that I would be reunited with my comforting forest soon. The blue eyed stallion was still creeping around my thoughts as I slowly took my time getting to my locker, and when I was finally putting my code into the metal box the hallway was nearly empty. I almost didn't even hear the loud laughter from a group of boys pass through.

"Well, hi there." A rough, jaunty voice greeted from behind me.

I turned to face a pair of six boys hovering around me with a dirty blonde one in the center. He was grinning as if he had won the lottery.

"The name's Matthew Crawford." He introduced, extending his hand out in front of him.

"Carlie Masen." I replied, refusing to shake his hand. I didn't know why but something about these group of people seemed strange. The way they looked at each other with sly, cunning glances brought me on edge.

"What, you got a problem with saying hello?"

" No, I just have too many things with me." I explained , motioning to the two textbooks in my hands as an excuse. They weren't heavy at all.

" Alright then Carlie Masen. " Matthew said, trilling his tongue. "You see my buddies and I were just leaving when all of a sudden I see a very, very pretty girl I didn't know standing here all alone. I couldn't have left without getting to know you."

" Thanks." I said warily, and decided that it was best to make my exit now. "It was nice meeting you too."

Before I could walk away from him, Matthews hands slammed against the locker to keep me from leaving, and I looked at him with a puzzled expression. The wicked grin on his face widened mischievously.

"Though I haven't got to know you yet."

I immediately froze at his words, my nerves getting increasingly haywire, and finally understood what his intentions were as Gina's warning about men echoed through my ears.

_ "When a man wants something he either expects you to give it to him, or takes it by force. And its your job to make sure that you get him before he gets you."_

Matthew leaned in closer to me, his scent a bitter mix of alcohol and nicotine.

"Tell anyone and I'll kill you." He breathed.

I was about to push him away from me and backhand him against the wall, when all of a sudden a large, bear like hand grabbed the collar of Matthew's uniform and yanked him back like a misbehaving dog. Matthew struggled and squirmed under the impassive grip, and when I looked up my mouth fell open to see the blue eyed stallion glaring daggers at him. His jaw clenched in fury.

"Get the hell away from her." The blue eyed stallion snarled. "You have no right to violate an innocent woman here or anywhere else. And if you do, I won't hesitate to rip your head off and put it on a stick for all of Mathis to see while it rots."

And with that, the group of boys scattered like retreating mice until there was no one except him and I.

"Are you alright?" He asked, looking at me with a concerned expression. His voice was unbelievably deep and he smelled like a pleasant form of leather. I wondered why it didn't ignite my thirst.

"Yes." I said shyly. "Thanks for pulling him away from me. That could have turned ugly."

"Matthew's getting way ahead of himself these days." He said darkly , glowering in the direction Matthew ran away.

"Well, I think you certainly put the fear of decapitation in him." I said, trying to lighten the mood.

The blue eyed stallion smiled at me placidly, the coldness in his eyes melting into a bright, electric blue twinkle, and even though I couldn't see the fire anymore I somehow knew it was there. Waiting and watching.

"I'm sorry I didn't answer your question this morning." He said remorsefully, and I think I felt my heart clench when the blue of his eyes turned unbearably sad. "You just...caught me by surprise."

He held his hand out to me as a form of greeting, and unlike Matthew I eagerly took it, feeling his immense heat absorb into mine as our minds connected together.

"My name's Daniel." He introduced softly, his gaze boring into mine again. "Daniel Black."


End file.
